


Men of Substance

by Flintasmagoria



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Flashbacks, Frotting, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Polyamorous Character, Scheming, Slow Burn, So many flashbacks, Swearing, Tenderness, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flintasmagoria/pseuds/Flintasmagoria
Summary: Basically, it's a huge AU-fic, starting from the episode “IX” (s02e01), where we're getting gold, catching feelings and not going anywhere near Charlestown.Slow burn till chapter 16 with some flashbacks sprinkled here and there, afterwards it's that smutty heartful Silverflint we all know and love.
Relationships: Billy Bones/Captain Flint | James McGraw, Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Captain Flint/Edward "Ned" Low
Comments: 58
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

“I’ll do it”, - Silver said with a sheepish smile, raising his hand, - “I’ll… I’ll go…”

Flint was a goddamn genius to come up with a plan so outlandishly, ridiculously risky that the remaining Walrus crew, despite of their collective desire to watch them both swing, had to consider it. What can indeed go wrong – two men, one of them with a bullet wound in the shoulder, versus a dozen of guards aboard the Spanish man-o-war. Even if Silver knew his way with a cutlass, he doubted he personally could even lift it after a long and exhausting swim to the anchored ship. Coming up with such plan as distraction for the crew was one hell of an opportunity to navigate their way around the Spanish camp on the beach and then enjoy a hike along the coastline to the nearest port, without fear of prosecution. None of those men would care enough to go after them, not after yesterday’s disaster. Captain Flint was the most impressive individual that John has ever met in his life, and the fact that for the time being they were in the same boat, so to speak, was simply reassuring. He drew a long breath, not really paying attention to the vote, he knew that it was a done deal already, men were desperate. His mind was sprouting all sorts of ideas on what to do next, when he and Flint arrive to some civilized port. With no money, no boat and no weapons, they will have to rely heavily on Silver’s charm and Flint’s practical brilliance. It was exciting and John could not help but wonder just how close those couple of trying days can bring them together. Maybe they will be friends after all.

“You shit!” spat Flint, giving him the deadliest look, as he sat on the pile of rocks and started to remove his boots.

“Um, beg pardon?” Silver’s smile withered.

“I needed a fighter. Someone I could count on to make a difference on that ship. What the fuck were you doing volunteering?” Flint was shaking his head in disbelief, his expression full of contempt. That wasn’t new, Silver kind of got used to captain’s sneering remarks and suspicious glances coming his way. He didn’t care much for it, being kicked around enough in his life, even he wouldn’t trust men like himself as far as he could throw them. But this time he was abashed.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. Why wouldn’t I volunteer? If we’re to try and…” – John’s mouth fell open at the sudden realization – “Hang on! You’re serious about taking the ship?”

“What the fuck did you think?!” Flint was positively fuming, with his brows furrowed and teeth clenched, it didn’t seem like a joke.

“I thought this was how you intended to escape!” – his voice cracked a bit, eyes round with shock – “Sure, it would be a few days of walking or so to St. Augustine, but at least we’d have a chance!” He was still unable to drop that ‘we’ part, in his mind they were already on the way, sneaking north behind the sand dunes, exchanging wary glances and watching each other’s backs.

“You really mean to board that ship… Jesus Christ.” It was becoming rather obvious that Flint has finally lost his mind. But what else could he possibly expect from that man? Not more than eight hours ago Silver pulled him out of the water and seriously thought the captain was a goner. The dread that filled him at that moment on the beach, surrounded by his swearing crewmates, was indescribable, just like his relief, when he felt Flint’s faint breathing against his ear.

“I’m not doing it! I don’t need to return to Nassau, I’m happy to find some other place to survive!” He tried to cast the thought of Flint’s meeting his untimely end aside and concentrate on the only thing that mattered for him as long as he could remember – his own skin. He wasn’t suicidal and the idea of even coming near that warship meant, almost certainly, death.

“St. Augustine is that way” – said Flint, it looked like this whole mess was irritating, but also sort of amusing for him – “It’s at least a week on foot, Tequesta tribes in between. I doubt you’ll survive to see sunrise tomorrow.” Flint seemed unbothered with such outcome. He stood up and headed to the water, with the enviable determination, as though he wasn’t a lone injured man on the way to his doom. John quickly realized that Flint wouldn’t lie about neither the distance between them and civilization, nor the danger of native folk, just to trick John to follow him on his mission. He just stated a fact and was on his merry way, as though he didn’t even need any assistance. He didn’t look back. It was obvious how little consideration Flint had for him and it made John’s stomach churn.

“How are you even gonna get out there with one arm?!” Silver shouted desperately, losing hope for any advantageous outcome of this situation. That silent determination, along with unbreakable will, almost superhuman strength and devilish shrewdness, was something that defined Captain Flint, and that was something that John found so irresistible. He looked around woefully, frantically trying to come up with some alternative, but there were none. He only knew two things. Firstly, in the unwinnable situation such as this he would rather be with Flint than alone and rely on their mutual effort. And secondly, and that was the heaviest part, he would never forgive himself turning his back on this man right now, as though he was connected to his captain by some supernatural force. That was why the notoriously opportunistic John Silver, despite of any good sense left in him, threw his coat and boots on the ground and set off into the roaring ocean.

The swim was as tiring as he imagined. However, he wasn’t the one with a bullet wound in the shoulder, so he caught up with Flint pretty quickly. Captain was drifting on his back with his eyes closed, grunting and drawing deep breaths. They were halfway through.

“You alright?” Silver asked cautiously.

“Fucking Dufresne…” – Flint didn’t open his eyes – “I should have gutted that speccy fucker right then and there.” Flint sounded almost dreamy as he said it and Silver couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, that would be just dandy, in front of the whole crew? I guess they wouldn’t take it lightly, he is their quartermaster after all.” John allowed himself to float on his back as well.

“Not for long, trust me. Dufresne has as much charisma as a bucket of piss, and his skills as a commander are non-existent, he should have stayed by accounting.” – Flint’s unfamiliar tone surprised Silver, he wasn’t used to Flint being so conversational with him. It seemed like they were having a chat at Nassau’s inn over a pint, not floating on the waves near the Florida coast. Such change of demeanor was especially baffling to him, taking into consideration how Flint had been on the beach.

“Who do you think is going to take his place then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, with Gates and Billy gone…” – Flint said flatly, fully aware how it might have been perceived, his involvement in both of those losses undisputed – “I think you’d be the most suitable candidate.”

“You are kidding, right?” – Silver snorted – “Not one living soul aboard the Walrus trusts me, besides, I’ve never entertained the idea of becoming a man with responsibilities.”

“No?” – Flint shot him a quick glance – “I don’t believe any man with your predilections would pass on such opportunity.”

“My predilections?” Silver was on the edge of his proverbial seat. He was more than keen to found out what exactly Captain thought of him. He feared his indifference after all.

“Well, let’s see. You are, without a doubt, a selfish nosy gallivanting prick, who is always shying away from a fair fight,” – Flint said with a small smile, ignoring John’s offended “Hey!” – “But I also sense that you are a man with ambitions. You are cunning and quick-witted, Mr. Silver, that is why you are still alive, but I don’t think that staying alive and scoring a fortune for yourself are your only motivations.”

“And what are my motivations, in your opinion?” Silver held a breath, transfixed by Flint’s praise as well as his incredible insight.

“I’ve met men like you before. Easy and peaceful life is not for you, you crave adventures. You want to matter. And you certainly have, to some extent, a hunger for power, which makes you a dangerous opponent and a useful ally. I can provide it for you, as long as we are on the same page.” Flint said it all so casually, still treading water with his eyes closed, that it took Silver a minute to process that information. Frankly, he couldn’t believe his ears.

“My, my, captain… I don’t know where it all is coming from. I could never imagine that I’m that transparent or that you’ve ever taken some time to contemplate my humble self.” Silver couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth and prayed that Flint didn’t catch some flirtatious overtones in his voice. To his outmost surprise, Flint changed his position and looked him in the eyes with a dashing smirk.

“I’d be a fool if I didn’t take you into consideration. Your stunts with the schedule and Miss Guthrie demanded my attention. I see you as a very able man. Besides, the fact that I’m still breathing means, that someone dragged me to the beach last night and I don’t believe that someone to be a sodding mermaid,” – Flint flashed him a toothy grin, and then lowered his tone – “With that in mind, I also see how you being here with me, on our insane mission, can be a start of a very prolific and mutually beneficial cooperation.”

“Or maybe I am just insane, like you.” Silver murmured, squirming under Flint’s gaze. He didn’t know what to think. Flint was fuming on the beach mere ten minutes ago and now, with all his undivided attention on Silver, it seemed like he enjoyed himself so much plying him with pleasantries. “I find that…interesting, that you are the one proposing me to go for the quartermaster’s position, being deposed yourself and without a ship to sail.”

“Oh, you know how it goes. Have a little faith in me.” All that smirking with squinted eyes could only be considered playful and Silver wondered if Flint really planned that conversation all along and what was his deal.

“Wouldn’t be here if I haven’t…” He replied, without breaking eye contact and sporting his most charming smile.

“Exactly my point.” – Flint said with a slight tilt of his head – “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we still have to pull one hell of a trick.”

“Aye, aye!”

They advanced forward without a break and reached the ship in record time. Bracing themselves against the warship’s hull they looked at each other again. Silver did everything to fight juvenile desire to giggle, as if they were in fact just pulling an adventurous trick with no grave consequences.

“Listen carefully, John,” – Flint whispered, catching his breath, calling Silver by his first name like it was the most natural thing to do – “Do as I say when I say it” – and then he suddenly winked – “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

“Always all those threats,” – Silver shook his head – “And I have been nothing but obliging and dutiful all day long.”

“Indeed,” – Flint’s lips curled momentarily – “We are likely to gain access through the berth deck. Now, as I said to our crew members, the watch on the ship might be spare, but it also might be a bunch of bollocks. So, watch your step and be quiet, there won’t be another chance – we cannot be detected before we eliminate the watch on the mainmast.”

“Don’t worry, I have no inclination of making acquaintances with any of those fine _marineros_.” Silver tried to take it all seriously, but he was so giddy with excitement that he couldn’t stop smiling. It was thrilling and petrifying and, at the same time, he was glad that Flint was his partner in this particular crime.

“ _Vamos!_ ” – was Flint’s reply. He grasped a rope and started climbing up the hull with agility one would never expect from a wounded man. Silver shook his head once more: it was apparent that they both went utterly mad due to overexertion, sleep deprivation or something else, but he felt so damn alive.

He started climbing up, watching Flint above him disappearing into the gun port. A minute later he joined him and frantically looked around. It felt like a right moment to whisper some words of gratification, completing the first step of their plan. But before he could make any snarky comment Flint grabbed him with both hands, successfully silencing John for good. Even now, in the most inappropriate of moments, Silver could not help but shudder from captain’s touch. They were very close, mere inches apart with one of Flint’s hand around his neck and another over his mouth. He gave him a warning look but held on tight. Their eyes met and Silver chastised himself for noticing just how marine green Captain’s eyes were. Flint released his grip and nodded, looking across the berth deck. There were at least fifteen men sleeping in their hammocks, adding men from the watch on the bridge and the lookout, he and Flint were facing around twenty experienced sailors of one hell of a warship. Silver considered for a moment jumping right back overboard and wistfully glanced behind his shoulder. Flint seemed to have read his thoughts perfectly, raised his brow and grinned. Was it all a game for him? And Silver thought he was the one being inappropriate.

Flint crouched and moved deftly between the hammocks with his dagger ready. Silver counted till three and followed. In dangerous situations like this one, he didn’t falter much: in his opinion, the overthinking bit has never been helpful, quite the contrary. That strategy, or lack thereof, has kept him alive all this time and he always managed to keep a cool head when it really mattered. They’ve been creeping further on, making a good progress, when Silver spotted a boatswain’s whistle, hanging on the beam above his rightful owner. The decision came out of the blue and seconds later he found himself reaching out for the shiny thing, praying for the sleeping sailor to remain in that state. He finally managed to snatch a cord and looked at the man beneath him: well, of course, he was awake. A couple of things happened at once: the Spanish boatswain opened his mouth to cry out, being immediately and efficiently silenced by Flint’s hand, his dagger disappearing into the crook of man’s neck, and Silver was watching the scene with a dumbfounded expression on his face. The struggle continued no longer than five seconds, but John registered a bottle being kicked off the post, rolling in the direction of another resting crew member. John didn’t hesitate to duck beneath the hammock, successfully stopping the bottle in its tracks. He exhaled deeply, praised the lord above and looked over at Flint, giving him a disbelieving glance.  
As soon as they were safely behind the deck’s doors, Flint pushed him against the next rail, crowding his space, the tips of their noses almost touching.

“What in the sodding fuck was that about?” Flint growled quietly.

“Boatswain’s whistle!” – Silver presented the thing proudly – “Doesn’t it make more sense for us to prompt the lookout to come down, than for us to go up there after him?”

“Good thinking,” – Flint tilted his head back with a grin, seeming genuinely impressed and a wave of pleasure from such a simple praise traversed Silver’s body in response – “But next time I’d appreciate a heads-up.”

“Whatever you say, captain.” – Silver replied with an easy smile, feeling thoroughly smug. He also could not help but notice that Flint lingered near him for a moment, piercing John with his pensive gaze. Captain’s proximity was intoxicating for Silver, he’s been thinking about it from the very first moment he saw him striding confidently across the Walrus deck. The fact that was apparent now was that he finally managed to spark Flint’s interest and it made him a bit light-headed. There was something in captain’s eyes that made John want this moment to last, but the spell was broken by voices on the upper deck. Someone was coming. They hurried to take cover under the stairs and watched a member of the watch passing by. Silver stood in the shadows and watched Flint silently overpower the young sailor from behind, the whole struggle taking seconds. John swiftly picked up a sailor’s jacket and put it on. He wondered if Flint was going to appreciate that little trick as well – Silver, with his dark curly mane, wearing the sort of uniform, was practically indistinguishable from the lookout’s crewmates, making their task ahead a tiny bit easier. Despite his internal strife, when it came to dealing with his unrelenting captain, he was just unable to stop acting like an adolescent, constantly trying to win some points. All those weeks of lying awake at night, reflecting on the things he had said and done during the day and pondering his next moves. He could lie to himself all he wanted, that the only incentive of making himself indispensable to Flint was staying alive and being better off than the day before, but deep down he knew, that the real reason was that he strived for Flint’s approval.

They crawled out on the deck and took their positions, Flint kneeling behind the mainmast. John blew the whistle, gestured the man in the crow’s nest to come down and immediately started to climb up. He came alongside with the guard on the midway but didn’t pay attention neither to him nor to further developments below, trusting Flint to handle the situation. He observed the southern part of the coast, where he knew the Walrus crew was awaiting their signal.

“Come on, you daft fuckers.” He whispered to himself, fully aware that the whole venture could have been just a ploy from their men, they all could have been on their way to St. Augustine for all he knew. However, after a couple of minutes he was pleased to register some goings on the coast and soon enough he could already identify the longboats moving their direction. He flashed a triumphant grin and looked down on the deck to give Flint a sign. He did not like one bit what he saw below. Flint was standing beside the lookout’s corpse, surrounded by all the men they found sleeping in the berth, wearily shooting glances upwards, they all seemed to wait patiently for his descent.

“Sweet mother of mercy” – he breathed out, feeling dizzy – “Sure, why not.”


	2. Chapter 2

To Silver’s surprise, they were not killed straight away but had been brought below deck accompanied by a couple of sailors, followed by their man in charge. John prayed to all known deities for that day not to be the day of his first torture, he felt bile rising in his throat at the thought of enduring any unnecessary amount of pain. He still had a spark of hope though, as their captors were unaware of the incoming assault. However, he knew damn well how much might change in the next moments, being at the mercy of the crew, who had just lost three valuable members because of two ragged Englishmen. They would be lucky to have all their external parts intact before their own men attempt to overtake the ship. He glanced at Flint, who was slumped in his chair, tied up tight, with a weird look on his face – not of desperation, panic or fear. He just looked annoyed beyond measure, like Spaniards have merely interfered with his plans and dared wasting his time. If the gravity of the situation didn’t currently make John’s insides stir, he would have found Flint’s reaction pretty amusing. Captain turned his gaze on him and seemed to find something in John’s eyes that made him furrow his brow and give him a slight nod. John understood that Flint was trying to provide him with some reassurance, and he was grateful about it, even though with them both tied up, there was a little comfort in it.

“I will be very honest with you…” – said the leader of the guard, after he had presented a small bag of coins and laid out a suspicious looking satchel on the table – “I could torture the two of you to find out who you are, how many more of you there are…” – he revealed a variety of metal instruments, ready to use with sole purpose of pain infliction – “…and what you are hoping to accomplish here. I could find it out and you would both suffer…” At that, John swallowed noisily.

“But today is your lucky day, at least for one of you,” – the man continued – “My commander arrives to relieve the watch in less than an hour. I need this matter resolved before then. So, neither of you will be here when he arrives. One of you will tell me what I want to know, receive this gold as reward, be escorted to the beach for your escape. And the other will be quite dead.”

John didn’t even let the man enjoy the effect of his speech, a plan forming in his mind lightning fast.

“My name is John Silver, his name is James Flint. We came here to steal the gold from the treasure galleon,” – John blurted out with easy confidence he didn’t actually possess at this given moment – “But he was deposed from his captaincy by a man named Dufresne, who is now waiting with the rest of our crew in longboats. You’ll likely find them behind the promontory to the south. I believe there’re thirty-two of them.” – he concluded, watching their captor grinning at him, and desperately hoping the man to be honorable enough to keep his promise. John was going doble or nothing.

“ _Suéltalo_.” – was the quick order and Silver was relieved from his bonds. He stood up, not quiet believing his luck yet, and warily approached the table, quickly gathered the coins, and only then looked back at Flint. Captain was watching him with squinted eye, the same kind of look that John sensed on him from time to time aboard the Walrus. He didn’t say a thing and then turned his attention to the man in charge who now stood in front of him with a cocked gun.

Just like John imagined, everybody in the room had been more interested in the upcoming execution, so he was able to immediately pick up the next heavy thing he saw nearby and strike a powerful blow to the back of the armed man’s head. Even though this first victory was small, John could not contain his triumph, it won’t be long before he might be named the most valuable crew member, crowned by Flint himself. The shock on the faces of two remaining men was a sight to behold, they stood on both sides of Flint’s chair and were too baffled to attack him at once. He swiftly snatched the gun from the floor and pointed it in their direction with a warning “Huh-uh!”. They all knew of course that he only had one shot and held both of them at gunpoint unsure what to do next. After seconds of uncertainty passed, he realized that the only thing that he was currently awaiting was his captain’s order, which could spare him from making a very tough decision.

“Shoot this one.” –Flint said after a quick assessment, as if by reading Silver’s mind, pointing with his head to the man on his left. The other one was standing dangerously close to the table with various weapons scattered around.

“He’ll get to the pistol.” – Silver reasoned, checking the older sailor, feeling hairs on his neck standing up.

“This one,” – Flint said, still referring to the sailor on his left– “has more scars, more fights. You’ve got the better chance against this one.”

“Not if he shoots me first!” – was Silver’s high-pitched retort.

“Then beat him to it. Do it! Quickly!” Flint barked, visibly losing his remaining patience.

“…So I actually have to fight him?” Silver asked coyly, scrunching his nose.

“Well, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen?” – Flint shouted out – “Do it! _DO IT!_ ”

And he did indeed, unable to ignore that sort of encouragement from the captain. The shot rang in his ear, thundering in the crumpled space, and the younger sailor’s body slumped to the floor. The remaining guard jumped to the table, grabbing the gun, but thankfully Silver was there fast enough to tackle him. Even though he had never been the one for open confrontations, he made a great progress in getting the weapon out of the way. They struggled on the floor, throwing haphazard punches at each other. If his opponent had been stronger or more experienced, Silver’s story might have ended then and there. But it seemed like Flint’s assessments tended, annoyingly, to be always correct, because he found himself overpowering the man and clasping his hands tightly around his neck. He had never done that before, never took someone’s life with his bare hands. The sight was brutal, gut-wrenching noises escaped man’s strangled throat. Silver looked up frantically to Flint. Luckily, he had managed to get rid of his bonds. In two large steps he approached them and smashed the man’s head with the armrest of his chair. John was catching his breath in short gasps, feeling the body under him relax. Somehow, even knowing that the remaining warship crew was to die anyway, if the assault was successful, he was relieved that he wasn’t the one striking the final blow.

“Alright?” Flint asked him warily, while simultaneously rushing to the door, bolting it.

Silver was up on his feet in an instant and helped Flint to block the entrance with a table. There was an awful lot of shouting and trampling outside. In the middle of the room they flipped another table on the side to serve as a cover.

“Not at all. What now?” – Silver said, nervously clutching his trophy gun.

“They’ll have to converge through the door, roughly a dozen of them, and three pistols at our disposal.” Flint calmly said, meticulously recharging two other weapons. John was once again struck by the fact how natural and at ease Flint seemed in such critical situations, as though he was predestined to lead a life of constant fighting.

“And then what?” – John muttered half-hysterically, his entire focus on Flint’s determined form and his firmly pursed lips.

His only answer was the sound of a cutlass leaving its sheathe and a dashing wink. Silver swallowed a knot in his throat, readied his gun and a dagger and stood beside the captain, desperately visualizing a positive outcome for both of them.

Moments passed with them waiting for the door to give way. “Hold your fire.” Flint said, as it finally started to shatter. A looming silhouette they saw through the holes belonged to Joshua, who grinned at their dumbstruck expressions and gaping mouths.

“Never thought I’d ever be happy to see your ugly mug!” Silver shouted, feeling exuberant and full of hope once more. He and Flint leapt forward to witness a scene of full on boarding on the main deck. All that John could register in that chaos was shouting, clinking sounds of crossed blades, smell of gunpowder and dozens of bodies in their frenetic struggle. He saw right away that an advantage was on their side and, very sensibly, decided to stay in the doorframe, observing the fight from afar. Silver believed whole-heartedly that he had already done enough for today. Flint of course had another idea and lunged at the nearest Spanish sailor with merciless vigor, making his way through the bodies in the direction of the quarter deck.

“Mr. Logan, weigh the anchor! We must get underway before they loose the cannons on the beach!” John recognized Dufresne’s voice, and was instantly annoyed at the quartermaster’s apparent decision to be in charge. If it wasn’t for Flint and him, they’d never had a chance.

De Groot’s commands to the riggers thundered through the deck. The fight aboard had already subsided, and John made to the railing, watching six longboats full of guards rowing, and shooting at them, as well as some serious hustle on the beach. Indeed, it would be much better for the remaining envoy’s crew to sink them right now, than to explain to their superiors exactly how a handful of dirty pirates managed to steal their warship from under their noses.

“Cannons are loaded! Get us underway!” Silver heard, and looked up to watch his crewmates, as they finally managed to unfold the enormous sails with giant red crosses on them. The whole scene taking John’s breath away, it was glorious, and they made it happen. However, the incoming cannon fire quickly made everybody duck, covered in wood splitters and dust. Flint was the only one standing tall against the taffrail, unswervingly gazing at the beach with a fierce look in his eyes. Silver watched him closely, trying to decipher Flint’s emotions at this exact moment. Surely, they must be proud of themselves for achieving their immediate goal of stealing this fucking warship: it was still better than nothing. But captain’s furrowed brow and tense shoulders indicated something else: he was livid. John observed the beach as well, they were steadily disappearing off in the distance, but even from here one could still see gleaming gold that they fought so hard for and had to, nonetheless, leave behind.

The course to Nassau had been set and the warship glided graciously on the waves in the last evening hour. Every crewmember manned his post without explicit orders from their temporary leader. Everyone except Silver and Flint who had been ostracized and left on the quarterdeck alone to await the inevitable vote. Silver managed to somewhat relax, surely after one successful takeover their chances of survival increased greatly. He didn’t dare to break the silence at first, taking in Flint’s fuming frustration. After half an hour of it the captain exhaled noisily and sat on the floor, closing his eyes and leaning against a crate. Silver took it as a sign of more favorable mood.

“So…That was one hell of a trick, don’t ya think?” He said carefully, fearing some snappy remark. To his utmost surprise Flint chuckled.

“Indeed,” – He replied, sitting there with a tiny grin, eyes still closed – “Let’s never repeat it.”

“Couldn’t agree more!” Silver said, grinning himself. It seemed that the events of this day had managed to change Flint’s attitude toward him, which John was absolutely thrilled about. “May I ask?” He continued, but then faltered.

“What?” Flint glanced at him with his head tilted to the side.

“Did you… I mean,” – John didn’t quite know why he needed to hear it, but it felt important to ask – “Down there in the cabin, did you believe that I’ve betrayed you?” Flint was watching him intently and Silver made a titanic effort to hold his gaze.

“No, I didn’t.” – Flint said abruptly and looked up at the twilight sky – “There was a possibility of course, but I still thought that my assessment of your character to be true.”

“You didn’t say I was loyal though.” Silver replied quickly and watched Flint’s lips forming a sardonic smile.

“Yes, however, I did say that our cooperation can be very beneficial…” He said it as though it was the answer to everything.

“Right, well, I don’t suppose you are going to trust me whole-heartedly, but I just want you to know that I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t betray you.” Silver said awkwardly not even knowing himself why the hell he was going on about it. Flint raised his eyebrows a bit and they stared at each other, silence speaking volumes. Something was definitely happening between them; Silver could feel it and apparently so did Flint. John’s heart was now pounding in his chest and he thought to himself that it was indeed worth it to be frank once in a while. A minute later Flint shifted, allowing himself to relax more comfortably against the crates, deliberately accentuating his undivided attention to Silver.

“Your plan worked like a charm, you kept your wits about you and that’s why we are both alive right now.” – Flint said without breaking eye contact – “I am grateful to you, and I mean it.”

Silver felt a tight knot in his insides unfurling, his cheeks flushing, and he looked away suddenly petrified of his embarrassing reaction to captain’s words. He wasn’t used to this sort of candid chat, never expected it from anybody in these waters, and certainly not from Flint.

“You can repay me some time, I guess.” He mumbled, utterly confused about this conversation and his strong reaction.

“Well, I promised to make you a prince of new world, didn’t I?” – Flint smiled at him – “How’s that for repayment?”

“Not just me, though, you promised to crown the whole crew” Silver replied with a grin of his own, starting to enjoy that new easiness with Flint.

“Yeah, and look how well they followed my orders,” – captain dismissively glanced around his shoulder, sneering at the men working on the deck– “In the nearest future we’ve got to seriously reassess the division of the prize, as well as the number of contributors.” He said with a tightly pursed lip, his eyes stormy.

“You can’t have men who defied you openly in your crew, not after what happened yesterday.” Silver continued for him, watching out of the corner of his eye Dufresne and De Groot talking near the main hatch.

“That’s where your expertise is crucial, John.” Flint nodded, as Silver’s stomach flipped again at the sound of his name coming from the captain.

“It won’t be easy…” – Silver said with a crooked smile – “But I’ll figure something out.”

“I had no doubts about that.” Flint replied with his quick wink and Silver was hooked.

It was already dark, and the crew had finally gathered on the forecastle for a vote. Flint squinted and turned to Silver who was currently lounging on the assortment of sacks and ropes.

“What do you think?” – Silver asked, playing with his pocket knife, not as afraid to strike up a conversation with his captain as couple of days ago – “I am pretty positive that after today’s events most of men won’t be out for our blood.”

“You’d be surprised how ungrateful and irrational this bunch can be.” Flint uttered, with his jaw clenched and dangerous fire in his eyes. It made John uneasy, and he scooted over to be near Flint and stare at the circle of thirty-two men, who were currently deciding on their destiny. After a while they saw Dufresne making his way towards them, he showed just a tiny amount of smugness on his bespectacled face, but it was already enough to make John’s fists clench fitfully.

“Seventeen ‘Yay’ votes against fifteen ‘Nays’,” – the quartermaster announced, watching them both attentively – “The crew has commuted your sentences by the narrowest of margins.” Silver’s breath quietly hitched as the realization of how close they actually were to hanging on the gallows tonight sank in.

“You will both be transported back to Nassau, at which point you will be removed from this ship permanently and without severance,” – Dufresne continued, obviously enjoying himself – “There’ll be no further negotiation on the matter.” Silver watched Flint pensively glancing at the quartermaster, stroking his beard. None of them said anything.

When they were left alone again, John approached Flint and they both stared down at the crew, who had positioned themselves on the main deck, bottles of Spanish rum in their hands, singing songs and laughing loudly.

“…removed from this ship permanently and without severance,” – Flint repeated, sounding terribly amused – “He really thinks that _he_ will be able to keep that warship for himself, Jesus Christ, I never took him for that sort of a delusional moron, but here we are!” John felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily curling up.

“I guess, very few captains of a very certain reputation could come to Nassau in one piece, sailing a Spanish warship, without someone trying to relieve them from that delectable prize,” – Silver said, darting his bright blue eyes to Flint’s unrelenting form – “He definitely ain’t one of them.”

“He’s only a part of the problem. Fifteen ‘Nays’, they gotta go.” – Flint said, still pensively stroking his beard – “We can’t afford shit like yesterday happening again, we need a solid crew under new quartermaster.” With that said, he put his hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. Silver suddenly felt like he ascended to the mainmast, light-headed of all those new possibilities laid in front of him.

“Our interests are aligned. You didn’t do any of this for a pardon or a passage to Nassau, or to be able to walk away from anything.” – Silver said, standing very close to Flint, looking him in the eye with his usual cunning grin – “We are going to reclaim your captaincy, take control of that ship and then return to that beach, armed to the teeth, and seize every last ounce of gold off of it.”

“Clever boy.” Flint replied with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God Almighty, I've never thought that it would take so much time! The pacing I chose is ridculous, as we are only now at the end of s2ep1. But anyway, I hope that the chapter 2 was alright and you'll enjoy where this story is going.


	3. Chapter 3

The first night aboard the man-o-war was quite eventful. Silver and Flint were finally allowed to descend downstairs, where they were both to occupy neighboring hammocks in a far corner of the berth, away from the others.

They had to make their way through a group of men gathered near the entrance. Though there was safety in numbers, not one of them had dared to say anything or touch Flint, who strode first through them without giving them all a second look, his presence was still too intense and even in his disadvantageous position nobody was too eager to challenge him willy-nilly. They hadn’t felt this way with Silver, that’s for sure, and didn’t shy away from showing it. He had nearly tripped over an outstretched foot, gingerly keeping his balance, but then was almost immediately shoved with a crude laugh. He looked around the shoulder and registered the smirking man’s face, he reckoned his name was Bridges. Others stood there grinning themselves and Silver was somewhat pleased to see, that none of the men in this group was especially valuable for the crew, so they were going to be first to go.

“Gentlemen.” He uttered in an overly dutiful tone, glanced at each of them, and followed Flint. At the same time, he thought about all the different ways he was going to ensure that Mr. Bridges will not land a position in their new crew. Thankfully, there were enough experienced riggers to hire in Nassau. Just as he was turning his back to head straight to their outcast corner, another man stepped in front of him with a dark expression on his rugged face.

“That was your shot that got us into that mess,” The man spat looking him in the eye fiercely, his whole figure like a string stretched too tight.

“You can of course look at it that way, however, may I remind you…” Silver started quite apologetically, trying to defuse the impending brawl, his opponent, Mr. Dorney, looked not only unstable, but also huge and seemingly ready to inflict real damage.

“Cuz of you Matthews was blasted overboard!” – Dorney interrupted, pushing him forcefully – “We could’ve just fucking bail…and Matthews…he’d still be alive, you prick!” His speech was slurred, eyes clouded with drink, but nevertheless full of hurt. 

“Hey, Dorney, I know you were close, but…” Silver said quickly, raising his palms in front of him.

“You don’t know shit! We ‘ave sailed together for four years, best fucking gunner I’ve ever met!” Roared enraged Dorney, veins of his thick neck almost popping. Silver knew exactly why Matthews’s death had affected the man so greatly, as far as he knew, they were mates in every sense of that word.

“Look, we all knew the risks of that endeavor! Matthews was indeed a fucking good gunner, but people die aboard all the time!” – at that Silver dodged a powerful blow of Dorney’s unsteady fist, that nearly crushed his cheek – “Hey! Come on!” Silver shoved the man back, trying to keep his distance.

“Why, maybe tonight is _your_ time to die,” snapped Dorney, stumbling over his own feet.

“Hey, you’ve just had your satisfaction from gutting this ship’s crew, who actually fired at us, you know, it’s them who killed Matthews. You’ve gotta be able to know your real enemies, Dorney.” Silver said sternly.

“Yeah, we’d be far away from here already if it wasn’t for you!” Came back a half-strangled reply and another attempt on John’s face.

“So, you weren’t there for the prize at all, was it just a merry voyage for you? Is that what you’re saying?” – Silver pushed him again, and this time Dorney’s stumbling resulted in a fall. John then swiftly closed the distance and pinned Dorney to the floor, with a blade of his pocket knife pressed against man’s neck – “Now listen carefully, Mr. Dorney, I am, just like you and _everyone_ else onboard, very displeased with the outcome of our last adventure, though I couldn’t possibly understand the pain of losing your best mate out there. I’m sorry that it happened to you, and Mr. Matthews will be missed. _However_ … Don’t you dare lay the whole blame for that failure on me, you daft cocksucker.” Silver’s voice was loud and calm, unlike his mind, desperately trying to make this impromptu performance as powerful as possible and hoping it won’t backfire. He saw many men observing the scene and didn’t want to lose his chance, while crew’s attention was on them. Dorney seemed to be stunned by the sympathetic beginning of Silver’s speech that he completely ignored the insult and looked up at John, his jaw clenched tightly, his eyes moist.

“And I’m telling it to all of you,” – Silver continued, letting his gaze wander along the crowd – “I refuse to take a sole responsibility for all that fucking mess, in fact, it should be _all of you_ feeling shitty for choosing the worst fucking moment for mutiny in history of all mutinies. If you stop to think about it for a second, you’ll know, that we really… _really_ had a pretty good chance of seizing the biggest fucking prize in our lives, we had _this one shot_ and it was wasted! For what?!” He let a heavy silence linger for a moment. “Dozens of lives lost, no gold, no _Walrus_ , and, personally, _I_ know whom I blame for it.” – John concluded with a bitter chuckle – “And yet we are all sailing home, the biggest fucking warship in these waters in our possession, now, who made _that_ possible?” He saw many concerned faces in front of him, couple of enraged, but also couple of approving ones as well. His implications were clear as day, but he purposely left his questions go unanswered, deciding to keep it simple and effective for a first time. The situation that he and Flint found themselves in was still very slippery and he didn’t want to push its limits. Silver was then quickly up on his feet, tucking his knife away and striding towards their corner without looking at anybody from the crowd. There was some murmur following him, but he kept his back straight and didn’t falter upon hearing some whispers about him just spinning tales and being Flint’s cabin boy.

He reached the hammock in a dark corner of the berth and slumped into it with a quiet groan. He glanced to the left to see Flint, who was lightly swinging in his hammock, just lounging with his hands on the nape of his neck. His eyes caught Silver’s gaze and John was stunned by their amused expression. After a minute of this intense staring competition John huffed out noisily and finally decided to break this silence with some cheeky nonsense, but he was stopped in his tracks by Flint’s disarming smile.

“That was brilliant, John.” Captain said softly, his praise once again warming Silver’s guts.

“Wasn’t it?” – John croaked, desperately trying to sound nonchalant and thanking darkness for partially obscuring his burning cheeks.

“You said you’ll figure something out, and I am quite impressed by your efficiency, hell, you’ve managed to soften the ground for our future developments in the very first hour after the vote.” Flint said, still sounding extremely amused.

“That’s me… Quite talented, right?” Silver couldn’t help but retort with a grin of his own.

“Undoubtedly.” Flint replied, and John’s stomach flipped again. Silver was afraid of how their new playful exchanges made him feel, so he hurriedly changed the subject to practical issues, watching Flint’s face intently.

“Well, the first message is out. How long do we have till Nassau?”

“Three days at absolute most,” Flint replied, his eyes wandering to the bunch of men across the deck.

“And if we won’t manage to take control of the crew till then?”

“That would be unacceptable.” Silver let out a laugh at Flint’s abrupt answer.

“No shit, but maybe, if we won’t manage… What chances do we have with another ship, another crew? Promptly be on our way back before all of those morons?” John said, pensively gazing around his shoulder.

“Those chances are practically non-existent.” – Flint said, suppressing a yawn – “Revealing the _Urca’s_ location to another crew right now would be suicidal. First of all, none of ships currently anchored in Nassau would be able to launch the appropriate assault: this man-o-war is our best asset…”

“Not the most fearsome pirate captain in the seven seas?” Silver couldn’t resist to insert with a mocking tone, even though they both knew – that was exactly how Flint has been described for a couple of years now.

“I guess, my reputation precedes me,” – Flint lazily stroked his beard and looked at John again – “But there is not a single captain in Nassau who would aide us on our terms, if they saw me deposed and shipless. Besides. Mr. Dufresne will be watching us closely on shore, to try to impede information flow. He definitely considers this our only plan.”

“Fair enough. That being your second point?”

“Yes. We are not going to bring any more competitors into the game. And we are not going to take smaller shares of the prize too. This gold is _ours_. We are going to take _all of it_.” Flint said with a fierce glimmer in his eyes. Silver decided that he really enjoyed how the captain had said it.

“So, no room for failure…” John said, leisurely stretching his arms and legs.

“Aye, it must happen either tomorrow or the day after, but it sure as hell must happen. Goodnight.” Flint concluded, as he made himself more comfortable and closed his eyes, lips still curling. John was watching him closely, grateful that Flint didn’t register the reaction to his last words, unable to unhear an innuendo, his head spinning. He gulped and decided to chastise himself whole night through for his inappropriate and dangerous fantasies.

“Goodnight.” He whispered and turned his back to Flint’s hammock. After a quarter of an hour of gentle swaying, John was soundly asleep, and in this state the inappropriate fantasies always prevailed.

He had been woken up early in the morning, Flint was already gone. John noticed a small basin and a couple of jars on top of the nearest crate that were not there yesterday. He rushed to wash his face, neck and armpits and discovered salt and rags, that he immediately put to use to clean his teeth with a satisfied groan. Silver was often ridiculed by other crewmembers for caring about his personal hygiene, at the same time, his smiles were almost always returned, his suggestions considered more frequently and generally people didn’t mind having him around, so he had his appearance going for him. John was pleased to discover that Flint was apparently one of his kind.

Mr. Dufresne felt the urge to spur John to get down to his galley duty. In general, spending a good deal of the day with typically monosyllabic Randall would have been a treat for Silver in his situation, well, at least a lesser evil.

However, keeping Flint-imposed deadline in mind, he couldn’t afford much of sitting around with potato peeling. It was crucial to soften his crewmembers up towards Flint, make them ready for upcoming change of command and earn their trust. There was not enough time for his preferred subtle style of persuasion. He would need significantly more time to approach every single member of crew one by now, striking seemingly casual conversations. It was always harder to work a crowd.

John made his way to the galley, pondering about the number of votes he could possibly secure today already. Randall, who was hovering over a cauldron of stew, greeted him with his usual intense look.

“Good morning, Randall, how do you do, old chap?” Silver chirped with fake enthusiasm.

“Cooking.” Was his laconic reply.

“Riveting…” Silver muttered under his breath. He picked up a knife and started peeling, his eye darting towards the remaining crew nearby. Muldoon, Dooley, Joji, Logan and Dorney were lounging after their duties. They could all possibly be swayed to Flint’s side by tales of riches, but not now, it would be too forced. John hated going against his gut.

“No good, sleeping on the night watch…” – Randall said, staring blankly into the pot – “Can’t steal too…Bloody thief.”

“Who are you talking about?” Silver asked curiously.

“Big fat one, ugly too.” Came an answer, which made Silver chuckle a little.

“I suppose, you mean Mr. Bridges” – John said, remembering yesterday’s encounter with the man – “That fella is indeed hard on the eyes.”

“Thief. I don’t like him.” Randall said harshly, as if giving out the sentence. Another half an hour passed in necessary preparations until the unappetizing stew was ready to be served. John had started pacing around the room, thinking out loud. 

“Fuck, there must be a way. A way to make me essential. They can hate me, they just need to need me.” Randall glanced at him from time to time with a mild curiosity.

Their domestic idyll was interrupted by approaching Muldoon.

“Randall, hurry the fuck up, we are waiting!” – he said quite menacingly – “And don’t you dare fucking spit in my bowl, Randall, we all know you do it when you are ornery, but I’m warning you – I’ll know.” Muldoon gave them both a dirty look and stalked back to his table. John wasn’t intimidated by him, but the man was valuable to the crew, they would want to keep him.

“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” – Silver smiled, watching Randall almost immediately spitting in the bowl he was holding – “Randall, that is truly disgusting. Imbecile or not, you really ought to know better.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Be that as it may, it hardly justifies…” – Silver interrupted himself, as the tactic of gaining crew’s trust suddenly dawned at him – “What did you say?”

“I don’t like him.” Repeated Randall.

“Yes… Perhaps the better question is…Who else doesn’t like him?” – John murmured, hastily laying out his plan in his head – “Randall, have you noticed something else going about yesterday or this morning?” Randall looked at him quizzically but was happy to provide John with necessary intel.

Soon enough John’s account of goings-on had been presented to the crew. It made an impact, but unfortunately for John this impact left him writhing on the floor, struggling for breath. That bastard Bridges got him good. He was coughing up blood in the corner as Flint promptly approached him, appearing out of nowhere.

“What was that?!” Flint was obviously alarmed, he looked John up and down with disbelief.

“I am convincing the crew to allow me to remain with them, as we discussed.” John blurted out irritated, returning Flint’s intense stare.

“Is _that_ what you are doing?” Captain grinned with mild amusement in his tone.

“I spent three years at the St. John’s Home for Poor Orphan Boys.” – Silver started with a vacant look in his eyes, remembering his childhood years wasn’t his favorite activity – “During that time, I knew a boy named Solomon Little – cleft palate, spotted face and the most unfortunate set of ears I have, to this day, ever seen. He should have been beaten to within an inch of his life on a daily basis, if the laws of nature applied.” – John cradled his stomach and sat down with a hiss – “Yet no one ever laid a finger on him because even at that tender age he knew… It isn’t about getting them to like you, it’s about reminding them how much they dislike each other.” – he observed the eating men with distaste – “He got up every morning, made his address, and I’ll be goddamned if there was a boy in that home who could’ve lasted a day without it.”

“Mr. Bridges did lay a finger on you, though,” – Flint was examining him with apprehensive gaze, twisting his moustaches – “How many beatings are you planning to withstand? You are dealing with grown men, not boys.”

“Living together in that enclosed space… The thrill of ridiculing one’s peers is practically immeasurable,” – Silver said lightly – “Trust me, they just need to get hooked on it, and then they will be eating out of my hand.” John concluded with his usual smirk.

“Good luck with that…” John once again witnessed one of Flint’s cryptic smiles. “How old were you, when you got sent to the orphanage?”

“I was eight, scrammed out of there as soon as I had a chance.” John answered.

“And then?” Flint seemed genuinely interested, he sat next to John, stretching his long legs with a grunt.

“And then I landed a job on one lovely merchant ship and thus began my career as a sailor.” Silver was a bit startled by a thought of Flint coyly gathering information to use against him in the future, but he didn’t have a reason to lie about his past, it was neither scandalous nor overly grim, almost every other crew member had similar upbringing.

“I was about the same age when I joined the Navy.” Flint dropped it conversationally, as though it was no big revelation about the fearsome captain with a dark past. “It’s tough growing up at sea, surrounded by strangers.”

“Still better than the orphanage, believe me.” Silver said, watching Flint very closely. He felt that this sudden moment of honesty was one of a kind, as nobody knew about captain’s life before he came to Nassau. John figured the only person who might have known it was Mr. Gates, but he knew all too well what fate befell the previous quartermaster and Flint’s confidant. However, his curiosity was piqued. Now he could, so clearly, imagine Flint in his Navy uniform, striding aboard some fancy warship like _Scarborough_. Silver finally realized what was bugging him all along, why Flint sometimes looked so out of place in Nassau or among their men: he had military in his posture.

“Can’t argue with that.” Flint said cautiously.

“Your parents…They encouraged your Navy career?” Silver asked, trying to sound not too eager or too curious.

“They both passed away when I was little, so I was raised by my grandfather…” – Flint said almost absent-mindedly – “He was a sailor himself, so he indeed encouraged me to follow that path.”

"Was he a gentleman? I always thought that you come from the upper class, just from the way you carry yourself…” John said, interrupting himself before he could blurt out another nonsense. Flint only shook his head with a short laugh, piercing John with his bright eyes.

“No, I’m a commoner, just like everyone here,” – he said, giving John’s shoulder a nudge – “I just had to pretend long enough.” He curled his lip at first, but Silver sensed the sudden shift in his companion’s mood. He wisely decided not to linger, even though he was dying to ask more questions.

“So, how busy have you been this morning anyway?” Silver uttered nonchalantly, hoping that sometime soon they would have a chance to talk about their pasts again.

“Quite busy. I had a pleasant chat with Mr. Dufresne, offered him my counsel.” Flint said, tension visibly leaving his body.

“Did he accept it?”

“He himself doesn’t know it yet.”

“What was that counsel exactly?” Silver felt a grin reappearing on his face unwillingly.

“I’ve merely suggested to stay away from the eastern route,” – said Flint with a shrug and overly innocent facial expression – “Just to avoid the temptation of taking a prize.”

“Do you think he’s gonna take that bait?” John whispered excitedly, once again musing over Flint being a goddamn genius.

“He is the man who had just spent his first night in the captain’s quarters, that are way nicer than mine were. He considers himself invincible.”

Flint and Silver had exchanged meaningful glances once more, a silent understanding between them. Flint disappeared into the hatch leading to the main deck. John headed out to Logan, who now was sitting alone at the table, just waiting to be wrapped around John’s finger.


	4. Chapter 4

“Just think about this, alright? Sure, nobody knows what the fuck is going on in his head, and I don’t claim to know all his ulterior motives but what _do_ we know for certain? Arrogant son of a bitch, bossy, likes brooding in his cabin above else, yes… but hell of a sailor, hell of a tactician, very mean, very violent, brave in battle, everybody knows _that_. About half of all ships we are choosing to hunt surrender without a fight. Why is that?” Silver cornered Joji and Joshua up on the main deck and was in the process of delivering his till now quite successful speech, judging by the fact that he had already secured eight votes with it. The vanguards were not entirely disinclined to chat about current state of affairs with Silver and he was now quite certain, that they were ones of the original ‘Yays’. It pleased him tremendously, as both were excellent fighters, very well respected not only among their own crew. The men exchanged glances and nods.

“We are sailing black…under Flint’s flag.” Joshua lazily answered, toying with his huge dagger.

“Indeed, and this piece of cloth alone instills such fear in people, that they are ready to abandon all the hope of surviving the fight with us,” – John said with a cocky grin – “Now, I know both of you gentlemen love a battle, that’s what you are truly good at…” Silver needn’t to lay it on, especially seeing two men smirking at each other, it was simply stating a fact – “But wouldn’t you say, that with this astonishing amount of gold aboard we would be much better off under one really competent captain?”

“We surely would, but what was all that talk about Flint’s betrayal then?” Joshua said warily.

“Those allegations surfaced because of some deposed woman’s letter, not a trustworthy source, if you ask me.” – Silver retorted with half a shrug – “Last time we spoke, he was adamant about keeping the division of shares from _Urca_ as was decided during the last Nassau vote: highest-ranking become a double, along with Guthrie for the guns and starting capital.”

“What about Mr. Gates?” Joji asked quickly, arching his brow.

“I saw Mr. Gates with my own eyes, that seizure that got him was extremely unfortunate and his death untimely.”

“Not ill-timed for Flint though? Last time we heard, he and Mr. Gates were at odds.” Joshua said inquisitively, observing John without much blinking.

“What can I say, mates, there are coincidences in life…” – John lifted his hand in dismay and after seeing men shaking their heads added gingerly – “Who would’ve thought yesterday that our mangled bunch will escape all that mess aboard this fucking man-o-war?! Our success was very unlikely, yet here we are today.” – he stared at them both intently – “If someone asked me what’s more plausible: us taking over the ship and getting away with it or an old man under a lot of stress dying of heart attack…” He let that trail off. The men looked at each other again and Joji raised his brow. Silver could see that they both were actually pretty content with that explanation and had no desire to go into more serious topics right now.

“Dufresne’s certainly no captain material…” Joji said, stroking his chin. Right then John knew that he had won. Vanguards were neither dumb nor short-sighted and becoming a double share for them was motivational enough to consider Flint for the position again. However, in John’s opinion, the part of his speech about the prestige of sailing under Flint’s colors, solely because of the captain’s notoriety, was an actual selling point for many crewmembers. They all needed a strong hand after all, and only a fool would deny captain’s military prowess and commanding presence.

“You, gents, know what’s best. Can I count on you?” John flashed them a smile, Joshua returned it and Joji nodded with a tiny grin of his own.

“If only everyone was as agreeable as those two!” Was Silver’s wistful thought, as he was lying on the floor cradling his stomach. It was in the afternoon, during his second session of the goings-on, he spotted many heads turning his way after the obligatory stomping and then it all went tits up, because his very first object of ridicule turned out to be Bridges again, who just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The only kind of consolation was the fact that he did not hear quite as much cheering after the beating as yesterday, which could only mean that part of the crew had started to thaw for him.

Apart from that, it had been an incredibly fruitful half-day. Silver did not allow himself any rest until eleven solid votes had vouched for Flint. After that he wanted to stick to his accounts in order to work on securing his own high-ranking position: till now the men only perceived him as a chummy cook and their opinions of him had just started to shift. Sure, they also wanted to let him swing only yesterday, but after the favorable vote and today’s conversations Silver knew, that his volunteering actually gained him respect of many seasoned crewmembers. Never in his life had he strived for a promotion, but after Flint’s utterance about Silver’s alleged hunger for power, he really stopped to think about it. He did like the thrill of being heard, he did enjoy the possibility to tell others what to do and he did love the idea of being Flint’s right hand. So, he gritted his teeth, stood up and peacefully wrapped up his little show. He only hoped that tonight someone other than Bridges would finally fuck up for crew’s entertainment tomorrow morning.

John had been blabbing away all day long, so he thought of his hammock as the only place to finally shut up and be able to relax and headed out to their corner. Unsurprisingly he was wrong as ever, because he was casually greeted by Flint, who was wearing nothing but the white knee-length undergarments.

“I was sick of the stench of the past couple of days, so I’ve used the opportunity to wash my clothes, as long as the coast is clear.” Flint said, gesturing to the nearest open gun port, where his shirt and breeches were fluttering in the wind, tied with a rope. John nodded, desperately trying to act as casual as he could, giving the fact, that captain’s figure simply demanded the attention. He threw himself in his hammock and carefully glanced in Flint’s direction. Seeing that he was hunched over busy with his toenails, John allowed his gaze to travel along captain’s muscular back, neck, and arms. Apart from his tanned face and hands, his skin was pale and freckled, with many scars and faded bruises, light red hair only on his forearms and just a bit on his chest. Silver gulped and decided, that he had perhaps been silent for too long.

“Everybody stinks like hell in here.” He said lightly, as if completely unbothered by everything happening on his left.

“I guess I forgot about it, sitting all this time in my own cabin,” – Flint remarked sarcastically – “I hate the stench on myself though, and it’s something I can change.”

“You might be a commoner, but you sure picked up some high-society manners.” – Silver teased a bit – “I’ve been sailing for over fifteen years and that might be the first time I witness a man caring for his toenails.”

“Dismal, isn’t it?” Flint said without interrupting his practice. John liked watching him, he worked efficiently and carefully, his hands and feet looking very neat and clean.

“Where did you get all that stuff from?” Silver asked, gesturing to the small clippers, scissors and nail files.

“Courtesy of the previous owners of this _buque de guerra_ , who were, fortunately for me, no savages. You may as well get one set for yourself, I’ve seen a couple as I was rummaging through the officer’s quarters.” Flint cocked his head to observe his work and apparently found it satisfying.

“Thank you for leaving salt and soap for me this morning, by the way.” John panicked as Flint stood up and stretched carefully, trying not to overexert his healing wound, presenting his impressive physique in all its glory: broad shoulders, luscious pecs, taut abdomen, powerful thighs. Silver was sure that this image will be deeply ingrained in his brain from now on.

“I figured you, being the least stinking member of this crew, would probably appreciate the gesture.” Flint smiled at him, taking a small mirror from the crate, and beginning trimming his beard and moustaches. John was so mesmerized by his deft delicate movements, that he at first did not catch the meaning of Flint’s reply. And then he could only hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel his face warming up and mouth becoming dry.

The remark of him not being as repugnant as other men was hardly a high compliment, taking into an account that Flint had already called him talented and quick-witted yesterday, but this, for some reason, affected him the most. It might be because of its carnal core or the fact that Flint had said it while being undressed in his company. Be that as it may, Silver tried his best to concentrate on something entirely different for his own sake.

“I’ve actually secured eleven votes today.” He said conversationally, without concealing his appeasement. When Flint caught his eye again, he looked pleased as well.

“You see! With such prodigious quartermaster I’d be able to never interact with the crew and ship’s business again and finally devote all my spare time to grooming and reading.” Flint said raising his arms enthusiastically, sunlight illuminating him from behind, and smiling at John like some sort of benevolent deity. John could not take his eyes off him, returning his bright smile. After some excruciatingly long moments he managed to finally muster a reply.

“Not yet quartermaster, just some lousy cook…”

“Not for long.” Flint said confidently, packing away all his tools and toiletries. Only then Silver spotted a book on the crate.

“ _Lope de Vega_ , ‘ _El perro del_ _Hortelano_ ’, have you read it?” Said Flint following his gaze.

“No, I haven’t. Do you speak Spanish fluently?”

“I somewhat lack speech practice, but I enjoy reading. And you? You sounded quite authentic while talking with that officer.”

“That day I had to give my best, as my Spanish is not the strongest, but I’m fluent in Portuguese.” – John said, placing his arms above his head and relaxing, all the while admiring Flint’s upper body with his eyes half-closed – “My mother was from Porto, we spoke her language at home till she died and then I’ve found work at the Portuguese merchant ship, sailed mostly on those actually.”

“And your father?”

“Oh, he was a regular English tosser from Plymouth, I guess,” – Silver said dismissively – “Hadn’t been around much…and fortunately for me, I’ve inherited my mother’s looks.” He added with a cheeky grin, raking through his wild curls.

“Thank God for that.” Flint chuckled, watching John’s hand. Silver felt the blush returning to his cheeks again but this time he did not avert his eyes. They looked at each other intently, tension almost palpable and John felt unhealthy excitement coursing through his whole body. Flint was the first to break the contact, slumping into his own hammock and ruffling his hair previously tied in a wet knot, letting it dry in the warm breeze.

He was stunning lying like this, with one hand behind his head, body fully stretched out in a relaxed pose with his ankles crossed, disheveled auburn hair framing his chiseled features. _Jesus Christ_ , did Flint knew about the effect, he was causing? The whole scene would not be provocative for an outside viewer, but it had been nothing but loaded for John. Perhaps he had been too transparent in his admiration of the man.

“Would you return to England or Portugal, had you a chance?” He heard Flint asking.

“Weather and food are certainly better in Portugal, better chances to avoid the authorities…” – Silver said pensively, noticing Flint closing his eyes in the sunshine, his skin illuminating warmly – “However, I am still not entirely sure if I want to give the Old World another chance…”

“I know what you mean.” – Flint said with a bitter smirk – “What about Brazil?” He added quickly.

Silver thought about it for some time and then uttered slowly. “It _is_ an idea,” – Silver was genuinely shocked, that it never dawned on him before, as it made perfect sense – “Portuguese colonies won’t have problems accepting stolen Spanish gold…”

“They also deal in diamonds and jewels.” Flint chimed in.

“Yeah, something easily transportable, unlike gold, yet highly tradable… _Holy Fuck_! Was this your plan from the beginning?” Silver blurted out excitedly.

“Not from the very beginning… Frankly, many of my plans have changed drastically in the past couple of days.” Flint said with his brow furrowed.

“But it’s a bloody sound plan, captain.” – John remarked, lowering his voice – “Far-reaching too. Until now everybody has been only talking about taking the prize, but it seems like no one is bothered how we are gonna keep it.”

“It’s been bothering me from the moment I saw all that gold scattered on the beach.” – Flint chuckled – “All those years of chasing the _Urca_ , all that planning, all the blood and sweat…and still I completely underestimated the sheer amount of gold there is, it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s just too much to travel around with _or_ bring to Nassau.” Silver rubbed his chin, laying out the plan in his head. “Do you think we can manage one trip?”

“It’s not possible to haul the whole prize to South America in one go without a consort. Two trips with our crew only. We still have to lavishly stock up: provision, ammunition, and fully man this ship. The gold is going to weigh us down, we won’t have a chance to careen her properly.” – Flint said, ticking off his fingers as he went – “There is so much to do: and most importantly, it all must be done discreetly.” He shook his head wearily. John sensed the slight change of his mood and decided to back off for now.

“We can discuss all the details later, when you are in the captain’s cabin again.” Silver said airily, waving his wrist in the direction of the stern. Flint winked at him with a grin and relaxed into his hammock, intending to catch an hour of much needed rest.

John still could not believe the enormous change in captain’s demeanor over the last days. Before their fiasco Flint had been mostly gloomy, silent, irritable, a man possessed. But now with John he was all winks and smiles, their conversations flowed effortlessly. They were in sync, something that John was beginning to be addicted to.

On the day of the wreckage John saw the man, who was absolutely broken, clutching at his friend whose life he had taken moments before. The same man then stood up and tried to launch a viciously daring attack, unconcerned with his own or his crew’s chances for survival. It seemed that this man had died at sea and Silver managed to drag someone entirely different out of the depths.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 15000 words for just two episodes and no smut? I sure know how to please a reader. (nah-ah)
> 
> But that's how this AU goes, I guess. If you think that there is too much of smirking and grinning, and looking at each other, bear with me, it all just leads to something that, in my opinion, is not 'forced'.

John never was a deep sleeper; it was something that he picked up very early in life. Never having privacy of his own four walls caused him to be alert of his surroundings most of times. He had heard the bell and opened his eyes in an instant, ready for his night watch duties.

Silver made his way to the upper deck, stretching his back and arms. He was a little surprised to see Flint leaning against the railing, peering thoughtfully into the dark abyss of the open waters. The night was moonless, and a couple of lanterns weekly illuminated his relaxed figure.

“I did not expect them to pair us up for the night watch.” John said quietly, approaching Flint from the side.

“I volunteered, actually,” – Flint replied, looking over his shoulder – “You would have had a privilege of staying up four excruciatingly long hours with Mr. Bridges, if it was not for me.” He finished with a crooked grin.

“You’re a savior!” – Silver snorted out, instantly entertained. “I truly appreciate it, captain.”

“You got it.” – Flint smirked and then gestured to the sails – “The winds are all over the place though, thankfully, Mr. De Groot had suggested to put us adrift for the night.”

“So, it’s another whole day till Nassau, fortunately for us.”

“We’re gonna be on the Kingston route around midday tomorrow-”

“-A lot of things can happen…” Silver chimed in, looking up innocently. He heard Flint puffing out air and turning to him with his arms crossed.

“Hopefully…” – Flint said lazily, nodding – “However, should we hunt tomorrow, don’t you think that Mr. Dufresne would be inclined to temporarily place both of us in the vanguard?”

Silver’s smile instantly withered and Flint, seeing that, could not contain his laughter.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Silver, this morning I’ve made sure that our temporary leader knows not only about your exquisite culinary abilities, but also hear about your previous rigging experience, you’d be too valuable to spare for the assault.” He said breezily.

“I can’t believe you’ve made my case for me, captain…” Silver croaked, suddenly at loss of words. He desperately tried no to sentimentalize Flint’s efforts; of course, the man knew about Silver’s disinclination for physical violence and he was much more useful to him alive. But he could not stop the warm feeling in his gut when he imagined that Flint genuinely cared for his well-being enough to persuade Dufresne not to risk him. “But what about you?”

“Am I not much of a fighter?” Flint asked cheerily, arching his brow and seemingly enjoying his reaction.

“ _Obviously_ , that is not what I am saying,” – Silver groaned, waving his hand in annoyance – “But you’re still wounded, you know.”

“My prediction may be incorrect after all, but somehow I think Mr. Dufresne would want to take up his very own first prize completely without my help.” Flint scratched his beard and gave John a meaningful look.

“I’d bet on that.” John said, and they stood there for a minute. With comfortable silence came the urge for asking uncomfortable questions. “May I ask you something?”

Flint answered with a nod, inspecting John’s nervous face.

“You said that over the last days your plans have changed drastically.” – John held his breath momentarily – “Was it because of the fact that we had to leave the gold behind or…”

“Or because of Mr. Gates?” Flint finished his sentence. Silver nodded and searched Flint’s face for any trace of anger, but, surprisingly, he saw only anguish.

“What I did to Hal is probably the second worst thing I’ve ever done in my life… I’ll never going to forgive myself for it, I-” – Flint said, staring again into the darkness, he tousled his hair in visible despair – “I murdered one of very few friends I have, with my bare hands, for my own agenda, my obsession. What kind of monster have I become?! It’s _killing_ me…” He turned his back to Silver, vulnerable at this moment. Even though he had just admitted a truly ghastly deed, John could not help but feel the need to console him immediately. He had stretched out his hand and almost touched Flint but then faltered.

“It’s horrible.” Silver whispered. Flint looked at him over his shoulder with a bitter expression on his face.

“It’s absolutely _fucked_ , even for me…” – captain spat out, holding John’s gaze, and then continued slowly, as though measuring his every word – “That is why I don’t intend to pursue my previous plans in the future. It wasn’t an easy decision and I am still coming to terms with it, but… I’m not the man I thought I was… and I’m just so _tired_ …I just…want to make us all filthy rich and be done with piracy for good.”

“What exactly did you plan previously then?” John asked quickly.

“Does it really matter now?” Flint reacted as swiftly.

“It kinda does… _to me_.” Silver said, hoping that he did not go too far with this questioning. He felt desperate need to understand the change in his captain better, to map out how he ticked.

“Well…” – Flint began after a long pause – “Long time ago I’ve adopted one grand idea about the future of Nassau, that idea belonged to one noble lord…true visionary…” – captain furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. John watched him carefully, trying to contain his nervousness, while Flint was confiding to him for the very first time.

“He believed that Nassau’s biggest problem was not pirates but inadequate management of its corrupt lords. He wanted to bring peace, prosperity and civilization there, give people opportunities for honest work, maintain the trade routes with both Worlds and…grant all pirates pardons,” – Flint continued with a slight twitch of his jaw – “It seemed absolutely undoable, unrealistic to me. It took a lot of persuasion, but the man had a true gift of gab. After a while I swore to fulfil that dream, it possessed me. But you know what, John.” – His eyes darted to the dark skies, as if searching for something – “Corrupt officials are immutable and civilization will always need their monsters… Years of sailing in those waters showed me, that I was right from the beginning: there are men who would never trade whoring, thieving and murdering for farming, building or trading, even if their lives depended on it. Some men have unfortunate backgrounds and resort to piracy out of desperation, but some are inherently wicked…” – Flint hesitated for a moment and added – “My current plan is to secure the peaceful future for the first ones. And let the rest devour each other.”

Previously John had thought that the real challenge was to get Flint to talk about his motivations and he, by default, would be satisfied with Flint’s explanation, but it was apparent now, that captain’s reply had been heavily redacted and left more questions than answers. It frustrated Silver beyond measure, but he could not allow himself to show it.

“I don’t wanna be a pirate,” – John said with an easy grin – “Not interested in that life at all. Not interested in the fighting, in the ships, I don’t care too much for the sea…” – Silver continued humorously, watching Flint’s gleaming eyes – “But being a pirate on this particular crew for a little while longer… It offers me an opportunity I don’t believe I can find anywhere else on Earth: one big prize and _freedom_.”

“And that’s what you are going to get.” Flint said with determination. He looked at John pensively, while twisting his moustache. “Now, enough prattle, I’ll take the stern, you – at the bow.” After giving that order Flint walked off to his post.

John was not peeved at Flint for that abrupt ending of their conversation, he gathered, that captain had probably said a bit more than he intended and it bothered him. And now Silver had at least three hours of staring into the darkness, which he was going to spend, probably in vain, trying to decipher what exactly bothered Flint.

***

Next day brought a strong tailwind and crew’s excitement became palpable. Most of them were out on their duties, about ten men had gathered for a meal on the galley and were currently watching John squirming on the deck, trying to recover from Dooley’s punch. It’s been the third session of his account of goings-on and the group of ridiculed still was, annoyingly, ever so handsy with him. Nevertheless, he pushed himself up and smoothed his hair to the side, catching his breath. He saw Flint observing him from the corner, his facial expression impenetrable.

“Next item!” – John shouted out relentlessly, stomping two times, everyone’s attention on him – “A member of the third watch, who shall remain nameless, entered the pen late last night, sometime after three bells. Though no one actually saw him enter or exit, evidence of his presence was clear…” – John watched the man in question standing up and heading to him menacingly, still Silver stubbornly continued – “…as upon inspection, the dairy goat’s anus was irritated from overuse-” The sound of a fist crushing John’s jaw was very loud, and stunned silence followed. John felt the metallic taste in his mouth and quickly probed his teeth with his tongue – thankfully, none of it showed the inclination to part with him just yet. Even through this nasty pain he registered the awkward silence in the whole galley. His offender stood beaming above him, awaiting the cheering, but, much to Silver’s utter satisfaction, to no avail.

“You…fucked the dairy goat?” Joshua said with a look of bemused disgust contorting his face. He then stood up and surged towards the goat fucker. The loud brawl ensued, leaving their audience hooting and swearing, and John triumphantly spat out blood on the deck. That was exactly how he wanted his plan to transpire and his gaze willfully found Flint’s. He gave him a subtle smirk in return and Silver felt tingling in his fingertips as excitement engulfed him.

Mere moments after that everybody could hear the bellowing outside.

“Sail! Starboard bow!” John had heard the shouts and saw all the men quickly flocking into the upper deck.

“Just what the doctor ordered.” He muttered and rushed to follow his crewmates.

A strong gust of wind and bright sunshine greeted him outside and John squinted, anxiously spotting the sails looming on the horizon.

“English colors, inbound from Kingston. Sugar merchants, most likely.” He heard Logan report to Dufresne, who had just emerged out of captain’s quarters.

“How do you presume an English merchantman will react, when being hailed by a Spanish warship?” De Groot barked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Only one way to find out…” – Dufresne said with determination, though grasping his spyglass with slightly shaky hands – “Anyone up for a little hunting?!” He roared, addressing the whole crew, who instantly erupted with cheers. Silver gulped noisily, reminding himself, that it was also a part of the plan.

The crew worked like a well-oiled machine in their preparation for the assault, they were, after all, experienced hardened pirates. Now and then either Logan or De Groot shouted out some orders, but apart from that, it seemed like they all did not need any supervision over their duties. They were steadily approaching the brig and with such favorable wind they were going to catch up with it in no time.

John Silver, however, did not have any active duty in the assault, for which he thanked all the gods looking after him. Flint was standing at the forecastle, away from all the hustle, he was rolling up his sleeves, peering at the horizon like he wanted to charm it. John hurried to join him there.

“So, what do you think?” Silver asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Good chances, yes…” Was Flint’s absent-minded reply.

“I don’t need to explain to you the stakes of what happens if Mr. Dufresne is successful in taking this prize.” John said conversationally, raking the fingers through his hair. Flint diverted his focus to Silver with a squinted eye and one of his smug smirks.

“There are a lot of nuances of taking over ships: certain confidence only comes with time and practice-” – Flint was now watching Dufresne, who looked somewhat lost on the quarterdeck – “Took me a while to get a feel for this part of it. Raise the black too soon and the prize will run. Raise it too late and you’ll induce panic and a greater chance of resistance. You ought to show you colors at _just_ the right moment to get them to strike theirs.” Flint’s attention was now solely on Dufresne, as their bespectacled captain stood there with his jaw clenched tightly.

Surprisingly to Silver, Dufresne seemed to figure out the moment for raising the black just right. The men cheered and roared again as the merchant ship struck its colors, meaning that the only upcoming wage to be spent in Nassau’s taverns and whorehouses would be gained easily without spilled blood. They started to prepare for the boarding with more cheering and shouting.

Dufresne had allowed a tiny smile loaded with smugness appear on his round face. As soon as John saw it, he was awash with fierce annoyance and quickly looked at Flint to see his reaction. However, Flint was peering at Dufresne with a wide grin and even nodded to him, mischief in his eyes.

“Aren’t you a bit concerned now?” John asked him quietly, watching the crew of the merchant ship scattering around the main deck.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” He replied humorously, relaxing against the rail and scratching his neck. John could share neither his amusement nor his nonchalance one bit. Flint must have noticed his fidgeting, because John received a clap on the shoulder and one of those winks. “The trickiest part is still ahead.” 

As soon as the ships had been aligned, they both headed out to the quarterdeck to observe the peaceful boarding from there. A dozen of their men was surrounding the other crew with their guns and cutlasses ready, and Dufresne was already talking with the captain of the merchant ship, giving out the order to sweep the hold.

“This is the most dangerous part…” – Flint said, his attention solely on the opposite quarterdeck – “Look at him. His mind is drowning in questions… Did I make the right decision? How am I going to explain to my proprietors that I gave up their goods without a fight?” – The captain in question stood behind Dufresne and was currently looking around him nervously – “What kind of _man_ am I? You hope he has answers to those questions. You hope that he can reassure himself that he made the right decision. You hope that he doesn’t realize that the thing he thought he was surrendering to…the thing that drove fear into his heart the moment he saw the black…that that thing is nowhere to be found.” John watched the captain of the brig with his nerves strung high.

“Are you him?” – The man’s voice was loud enough for both crews to hear – “Are you Captain Flint?”

At that, Flint momentarily shifted and gave John a winning smirk. “Men in these waters are hard men: they don’t fear ships, they don’t fear guns, they don’t fear swords…”At that, Silver got yet another proof, that whatever his captain set his mind to, was, inexplicably, going to happen just as he planned it. He shuddered in awe with this realization just before all hell broke loose.

A whistle came from the captain and, in an instant, the whole deck of the brig was all in motion. The merchant’s crew seemed determined to fight fiercely and was already successfully reducing the number of pirate vanguards. Shouts of “Retreat!” and “Back to the ship!” thundered around, inducing panic. Suddenly, more armed men had appeared on the port side and everyone aboard the warship standing close to the railing rushed to duck.

Miraculously, Silver had managed to spot a long barrel of the rifle aiming at Flint and him soon enough to react.

“Watch out!” He shouted desperately, pushing Flint to the side without a second thought, as a bullet flew just above his head. They landed on the deck, surrounded by shouting chaos. Flint, with his mouth agape, looked at John’s pale face and must have seen something there, because he steadied him with his grasp on John’s forearm.

“It’s alright.” – He said abruptly, looking him in the eye meaningfully – “Stay here.”

Flint quickly got up and unflinchingly made his way to the rudder, where Dufresne, Logan and De Groot were shouting at each other.

“-Because he’s in charge here!”

“No one is in fucking charge here!”

“You have to sink her.” – Flint uttered calmly, looking at Dufresne with squinted eye – “You cannot just escape; you have to sink that ship. For if a single one of those men lives to tell the tale, no one will ever surrender before that flag again.”

Everyone around him looked unsure and desperate, but Flint’s figure radiated control.

“Cut us loose. Get us underway.” Came his calm order, that Logan was quick to repeat, it was put in motion in mere seconds.

John watched Flint walk to the quarterdeck railing and peer down at the gunners.

“Gun crews at the ready.” He shouted out with his most commanding voice, all his features ardently focused. There was probably three seconds of hesitation before his order was repeated and the whole crew rushed to obey it, heaving the cannons in unison.

“Fire!” His final order had been repeated instantaneously and dutifully. John was enraptured by the sight of the warship completely obliterating their opponent, who had no chance of survival whatsoever.

A wild smile appeared on his face, adrenaline painting his cheeks red. He saw Flint observing the havoc without much emotion showing, but when he caught John’s gaze, his brow arched and he returned his smile fleetingly, before turning around and striding towards the captain’s cabin with an almost aggressive amount of swagger. All of the remaining crew had just stood there, eyes wide open, watching him disappear into the quarters, nobody said another word.

Only then John had noticed that he was not only holding his breath uncomfortably long, he was also painfully hard.


	6. Chapter 6

The crew did not take a fiasco with the brig lightly. They had lost three men in the assault, four more were wounded, they did not have a chance to take any valuables from the prize and the whole port beam needed repair. Another vote was an obvious necessity, that every single crewmember acknowledged straight away. To John’s enormous delight, he was the second person, after De Groot, that the majority of men approached about that matter.

Flint did not emerge from the captain’s quarters throughout the day, his almost arrogant way of saying that the place was and always had been his anyway. His door remained shut, indicating that captain was enjoying his privacy after two nights in the berth.

The counsel gathered in the early evening. They were all standing in a circle on the weather deck, apart from Dufresne, who had been frowning and fidgeting on the foredeck, twisting endless knots, since the moment the brig sank. He did not move from there and was visibly tormented by guilt and shame. He only briefly spoke to De Groot, informing him about his choice for the upcoming vote.

“I just don’t fucking understand why we listening to fucking cook, is all…” John had heard that muttering from Bridges, but he also saw the others silencing him with disparaging looks. It brought a sly smile to his face.

“…Twenty ‘Yays’ for Captain Flint’s leadership against nine ‘Nays’, gentlemen,” – He continued energetically – “That leaves us with another question of great importance, our second item concerns…”

“New quartermaster!” Joshua growled with accompaniment of shouts and whistles from the bunch.

“Indeed, we are in desperate need of the new quartermaster, aren’t we?” John said loudly, spreading his arms and looking around. He saw the majority nodding and elbowing each other and felt excitement coursing through him. He was finally working this crowd, in the trying times like this they were happy to let him speak.

“However, if I may be so bold, gentlemen, I don’t think that there is a single _experienced enough_ man among us who is fit for that job,” – He said confidently, ignoring the murmur from some more ambitious crewmembers, thankfully, there were not many of them – “Apart from Mr. De Groot,” – John gestured to the man in question, being his usual stern and grumpy self – “…who assured me earlier, that he has absolutely no inclination for taking that post.”

It was true, De Groot was currently the oldest able sailor aboard, respected by the crew for his seafaring expertise, but he was also no fool and did not want to further meddle with Flint’s business. John saw furrowed brows and head shaking in the crowd, but it was also clear that most of them understood sailing master’s motivation behind the refusal.

“There is just too many responsibilities, too much pressure, stress…” – John continued in his most earnest voice – “The quartermaster has to have captain’s ear and be at crew’s service all of the time…” – He saw that he had managed to paint a quite undesirable picture of that duty, even though everyone was aware that it came with power and a double share of gold, but he of course failed to mention it.

“What is it you’re proposing then?” Logan said, peering at Silver with intensity. John always liked being the center of attention and now was reveling in it, making his face as innocent as he could and looking around him like he was not the one making a speech, but just simply a crewmember, who was actively engaged in ship’s future .

“I merely suggest appointing a man to _act_ as our quartermaster in the meantime. Till the right man for the job appears.” Silver concluded with a shrug and crossed his arms. There, pretty simple.

“Are you suggesting yourself then, Mr. Silver?” De Groot said with a sardonic smirk. To his surprise, men left and right from him started nodding and hooting once more.

“He does have captain’s ear, though, sneaky prick.” Joji said, he and John exchanged glances and both grinned.

“Do you wish to act as this crew’s temporary quartermaster, Mr. Silver?” Muldoon said, looking around him. John had been in his good graces since yesterday, bringing him some special Spanish rum and plying him with amusing stories about Portuguese women, various merchant captains’ curious habits and port of Boston.

It was crucial to have his candidature announced by someone else, John did not want to nominate himself under any circumstances. It made him more likeable to just gracefully accept whatever was offered to him. But upon seeing that the majority of the crew would welcome that outcome of events, he did not mind being a bit cocky.

“It would appear that most of you, gentlemen, would be _pleased_ to see me _acting_ as your temporary quartermaster…” – Silver said, tilting his head and flashing his teeth – “And who am I to say no to such outstanding privilege?” That earned him laughter and more whistles and hollers from the men.

***

John was ecstatic about the events of the day and could hardly wait to share the triumph with his captain. They bloody did it, it was unbelievable how smoothly it all went down, just according to plan. He was finally heading to captain’s cabin to share the good news; however, he was not the only one seeking Flint’s audience.

It appeared that Dufresne at last had managed to muster some courage to face Flint. John spotted him going into the cabin, leaving the door just a tad open and Silver never shied away from the opportunity to overhear something that was not meant for his ears.

“-You warned me, didn’t you?” – John heard Dufresne’s voice, his tone reserved but still sorrowful – “To avoid that course through the shipping lanes…Perhaps it was my hubris that drove me to it, to show you that I had it in me to lead….” – He paused and John could imagine him shaking his head at the moment – “….But as I stood there, all of them looking at me with disdain and pity…I was forced to consider another possibility. That course we charted, perhaps none of us would have thought of it at all, had you not raised it in the first place. That you orchestrated it all: the deaths, the destruction, the loss. All to achieve this very moment. Is it possible a man can do such a thing?” By the end of his tirade Dufresne sounded even more distressed, as if on the verge of crying out. Flint gave him neither answer nor comment.

“Your new quartermaster will sure arrive shortly.” Dufresne said abruptly and left the cabin, red in the face. He stumbled past Silver, who was leaning against the railing in the shadows, without noticing him.

John thought about what Dufresne had just said about Flint orchestrating the whole thing. Of course, he was fully aware that it was exactly the case, Flint wanted someone to die to prove the point, that they all needed _him and nobody else_ as their leader. However, John found it hard to be bothered by this fact, at the same time he thought that Dufresne was being a massive hypocrite. They were all always gambling with their own lives and lives of countless others, those were the prerequisites of making a living through high sea piracy. And seeking the moral high ground was a doomed task.

Silver had waited five minutes before he knocked on the door and upon hearing a loud ‘Come in!’ stepped into the captain’s cabin.

“ _Fucking hell!_ ” He whistled appreciatively, looking around the gorgeous interior of the quarters, Spanish captains surely could afford to voyage with comfort and style.

“I liked my own quarters better…” – Flint was currently lounging near a bookshelf, some weighty tome in his hands, he glanced at John and then followed his gaze around the lavish room with paintings, carpets, a real bed bolted to the floor and a massive ornate writing desk – “But I suppose I could get used to it.” He said with a smirk, waving his wrist.

“Frankly, in comparison, your cabin on _Walrus_ -”

“-Spartan, yes.” – Flint interrupted him with a chuckle and then approached his authoritative looking chair – “But it gives you an opportunity to think, which is crucial for my job here, and all of this-” – Flint pointed to a full-length mirror in a richly decorated frame – “This is just too much distraction, it’s difficult to breathe in here, too much clutter.” He concluded dismissively.

“I don’t mind clutter, and I’d love to trade my hammock in the berth, wanna switch?” – Silver saw Flint rubbing his chin while trying to hide his grin – “I thought so! And anyway, soon you’d probably put all of those luxury items to good use, when you have nothing to do apart reading and grooming…” Silver let it trail off suggestively. He remembered all their past conversations perfectly.

“Mr. Silver, truly, your talents know no bounds.” – Flint slumped into the chair and looked at John with a great deal of amusement – “Must I congratulate you with your new position?”

“ _Acting_ as _temporary_ quartermaster…” – John said with fake humility – “But thank you, still, it’s been rather exciting.”

“What a choice of words. Did at least someone protest against this absolute travesty?” – Flint chuckled upon seeing John shaking his head – “However, it doesn’t change a fact: the ship is ours. My captaincy is reclaimed, and the crew has a new quartermaster, that they _think_ is temporary.”

“It’s fucking brilliant, isn’t it?” John grinned, delighted with himself and with the whole world.

“I say it calls for a celebration of sorts. I believe a drink would be in order?” – Flint asked rhetorically, while reaching one of the desk drawers and retrieving two dark bottles from there – “The previous captain left many lovely things stashed all over the place: I discovered a whole _crate_ of this magnificent vintage port behind the dresser. And I thought you’d like it better than rum.”

Of course, upon hearing the captain talking about him or his preferences, John’s guts jumped, and the rush of joy rolled over his whole body. Flint knew of his Portuguese connection, he planned to drink with John tonight, he thought about what John might _like_.

“You’re right, I _love_ port. I appreciate it, Captain.” He let a genuine happy smile appear on his face and saw Flint mirroring it and handing him a glass and one of the bottles.

“Drink it at your own pace.” Flint said, filling his glass and ruffling his damp hair. John had noticed that the captain was wearing a black leather coat of the ship’s previous commander, that suited him too well. There was a faint orange aroma in the air. It all looked like captain Flint had settled in here for good.

“To the success of our endeavor!” – John said with great pomp, sipping his port and humming appreciatively – “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Agreed.” Flint replied, peering into his glass and licking his lips in delight. John was once more distracted by Flint’s unrelenting animal magnetism: captain was simply relaxing in his chair, his hair disheveled, candlelight dancing on his handsome face, neck, collarbones. John had noticed a new golden stud earring, and a couple of heavy rings adorning his long fingers. The image of Flint rummaging around this cabin, finding hidden stashes of alcohol and accessorizing, brought a smile to his face.

“So, how was the vote then?” Flint asked, apparently not noticing that he was being so blatantly stared at.

“There are currently nine men aboard this ship, who don’t want you as their captain. Needless to say, that Mr. Dufresne is one of them.” John said, finishing his second glass and feeling alcohol slowly starting to work.

“Unsurprisingly. What about Mr. De Groot?”

“He was one of the ‘Yays’, actually.”

“Good. He’s a valuable professional.” – Flint said, pleased with the news – “Even though he had tried to _repeatedly_ undermine me, he knows his place and still deserves his retirement…” – He said pensively, and then concluded, his eyes twinkling – “I’d hate to send that Dutchman flying.” John chuckled at that, shaking his head in disbelief. He could never imagine just a month before, that he would be sitting in Flint’s company, drinking wine and hearing him attempting to make jokes.

“What are you planning to do with them?” Silver asked, tilting his head to the right side, stretching his neck. The wave of warmth was rolling up and down his body, evoking the sense of carefree peace and comfort in his chest and head, something that good port could always do to him.

“That is an excellent question…” Flint said, sounding bored and knocking down the last drops of his own second glass – “What can be ever done with rats…” – He gazed into the bottle and then instantly becoming serious said – “You do realize that we simply cannot let them go, when we’re anchored. In fact, none of the crew can leave this ship.” Their eye contact was intense, and John found himself shivering.

“Not with them knowing the _Urca’s_ location… I know that. We can’t allow them running their mouths all around Nassau.” He answered and wondered if Flint was awaiting his suggestions on that matter. He then suddenly remembered about his new role in the crew and chastised himself: making suggestions was now part of his job. “I don’t feel comfortable with killing those nine bastards.” He said simply. Flint snorted at that.

“I didn’t suppose you would be.”

“What if we utilize Miss Guthrie’s assets? We can place them into her custody for a week or so, I’m sure they’ll be guarded properly. When they are released, we’ll be already on the way to Florida and their information won’t be worth shit.” Silver said gingerly, filling his glass once more.

“Very humane of you, Mr. Silver.” – Flint replied with a smile – “Many men I’ve met at sea would suggest cutting their tongues and hands off or simply throwing them all overboard. But we are going to follow your plan. I’m sure Miss Guthrie will aide us. That leaves us with another matter of great importance…” – Flint looked him in the eye meaningfully – “The crew.”

“How many new recruits are you willing to take aboard?”

“We need a fair number of them. This is a big fucking ship, many guns, normally the crew consists of five hundred men, but I’m disinclined to take so many: in our delicate situation, we should prioritize quality over quantity and accept only the most able seekers. We need enough topmen and waisters, but we have to be careful in choosing them.”

“Those are the men we gonna share our fortune with…” – John said, looking down his glass – “And there cannot be another mutiny.” 

“Exactly. You know how high the stakes are, that is why I want you to personally oversee the recruitment. As soon as I’m done with some personal business ashore, I’ll be joining you.” – Flint was fiddling with the tip of his moustaches, looking pensively at the distance – “I also need you to choose two scouts to return to the beach ahead of us and someone to help you with managing the restocking: enough powder, ammunition, provision, water, and, quite important for morale, rum and beer. I’ve made a list.”

“I’ll do my best.” John said simply. There was, of course, a ton of things to do, but he was sure in his ability to improvise and decided, that it was purposeless to fret right now. He was pleasantly drunk and warm, Flint was regarding him calmly, comfortable in his company, and despite the weight of his new responsibilities, John felt genuinely happy. He watched the captain’s throat as he was drinking his port, his gaze travelling from shoulder to shoulder, down his chest, back to his face.

He wondered when had his fascination for the man turned into a slight obsession. In the last couple of days, the fact that he was indeed lusting after his captain and after him alone became clear to John. Due to his rocky upbringing, he did not worry much about the object of his desire being a man. However, the persona of that man held much cause for concern. Thankfully, right now he was too drunk to be seriously bothered by it.

They chatted amiably for a good while, exchanging humorous stories from their past voyages and finishing their bottles in peace. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and Flint’s remarks had made Silver laugh out loud a couple of times. For John it was the ultimate reward for all the punches he had had to endure in the last days. He did not want to leave this cabin at all, and he did entertain an idea of persuading Flint to uncork another couple of bottles. But Flint was too practical to pull an all-nighter getting blind drunk, not before a very busy day in Nassau.

“Captain, I drink to you!” – Silver proclaimed, raising his last glass – “I’ve never believed those crazy tales about you selling your soul to a sea witch or Devil himself, but the events of the last days might have changed my mind. You have an incredible luck.” – He then stood up, somewhat swinging on his unsteady feet, and made a few steps to the door, still watching Flint’s face – “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Believe me, Mr. Silver, luck has absolutely nothing to do with it.” – Flint said, raking his fingers through his hair and standing up – “In fact, I should be drinking to you, as you’ve already saved my life three times. Don’t think that it had escaped me-” – Captain sounded so earnest, looking at him seriously and John was mesmerized by his heavy gaze – “I need you to know, John, that I am _truly_ grateful.”

He approached Silver swiftly. John’s breath hitched, blood flow thundering in his ears, painting his cheeks red. He grabbed Flint’s outstretched hand and shook it slowly. Captain’s palm was warm and dry, his other hand reassuringly squeezing John’s shoulder, and even this innocent body contact sent a wave of excitement down his spine. He once again found himself lost in green depths of captain’s eyes.

He was silent for too long, undoubtfully making a fool of himself. Averting his gaze to the floor, he finally murmured. “Thank you, captain…”

“It’s me thanking you, John.” – Flint said, seeking his eyes again and smiling warmly – “Get a good rest for tomorrow.” He gave Silver’s shoulder a final pat, and turned his back to him, stripping his leather coat and heading to the desk again.

John thought he gulped too loudly in the sudden silence of the room. He was ready to spew some embarrassing nonsense but bit his tongue instead. “Goodnight.” He finally said quietly and practically dragged himself out of the cabin, not trusting himself enough to cast another look in the direction of Flint’s strong figure.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for kudos! This is kind of a jumbo chapter that I was struggling with for a while, as I've never written smut (and now am unsure if it was smutty enough).  
> What the hell is that pairing? What the hell is that chapter? I have no idea, it all went over my head.

It was a splendid morning: bright sun, favorable wind, uncharacteristically tasty porridge from Randall, and with Nassau mere hours away, crew’s spirits were high. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves apart from John Silver. From the very first bell he was repeatedly reminded why exactly he had been running from responsibilities his whole adult life. Somehow the rumor, that no crewmember was allowed to come ashore, had been spread and the temporary quartermaster was being constantly annoyed by individuals, who were inclined to persuade him that _they_ could be trusted with the information, and that _they_ wouldn’t, for the love of God, ever gab around Nassau about _Urca’s_ gold. John had already lost track how many times he had to use the old “I know, mate, but that’s how it goes… I personally believe that _you_ ’d never…” speech, but most men were clearly unimpressed with it and Silver felt their dissatisfaction. He had been hiding from all of them below decks for some time now, feeling quite pathetic and unsure of himself. Having the time to ponder his current situation, John became even more restless when he realized, that being quartermaster also meant, that he had to be the first one to go over the rail, should the crew vote to pursue some other prize. He had put his own safety at risk too many times over the last weeks and dreaded that his luck was going to run out before even reaching the coast of Florida and seeing the gold again with his own eyes. And of course, being constantly bombarded by crew’s complaints was far from a pleasurable experience.

He steadied himself, took a deep breath and discarded a piece of sail he was ‘mending’ for the last hour. He decided to go to Flint and ask for his help with the crew, and he did not come to that decision lightly. Reluctantly making his way upstairs he wondered to what extent he would be scolded by the captain for his ineptitude.

Little did he know, that upon reaching the weather deck he was going to witness Flint standing encircled by his men, who were all roaring with laughter, apparently delighted by some witticism that the captain had just spouted.

“-and I’ll be damned if any of those fucks will even _start to_ _imagine_ getting their hands on our prize…” – Flint shouted with accompaniment of gruff cheering, slowly turning and peering around himself – “I believe that all of us here know exactly how much is at stakes… _All that gold_ …we’ve all seen it…is within our reach, gentlemen, so we must be cautious!” His gaze was piercing, his melodic voice reverberated across the deck, demanding everyone’s full attention. John was once again mesmerized by Flint’s ability to play his audience like a fiddle.

“Oh, and here he is-” – Flint pointed at John, who was suddenly in the spotlight with the sheepish smile on his face – “Mr. Silver was the one who tried to persuade me otherwise, yesterday he’d said, that he trusted all of you to be reasonable with the crucial information we possess, that we all deserve a break, that we all want to go home.” – captain’s eyes were hypnotic on him – “As your quartermaster he wanted to defend your interests and defy my very unpopular decision.” At that, Silver made sure to show his most humble facial expression, seeing how Flint’s words elicited favorable murmur between the men.

“But as I said earlier, don’t let anything fool you – we might be the first to embark on the mission for _Urca de Lima_ , but we aren’t gonna be the only ones that want to claim the prize. They all know what we went for, they all want it, and when we come back empty-handed, they’ll try anything to extract any information about the gold’s whereabouts. Staying safe aboard now can ensure, that you’d be neck deep in gold, booze and women for the rest of your life. So, gentlemen, you know my opinion, you are able to see the reason behind it: I believe it’s time to vote on that matter. All in favor of staying aboard this warship while anchored and being on our way to the beach as fast as possible?” He concluded with his arms stretched wide.

The thundering of ‘Aye’ that followed was overwhelming.

***

“For the love of fuck, how have you done it?” – John said, entering captain’s cabin, shaking his head.

“Just reminded them all how dangerous and treacherous the world is out there.” Flint sat behind his desk, cleaning his guns.

“…And it would be even more dangerous and treacherous without their very able captain, who is always looking out for them.” Upon saying that, John lifted his palms in a generous gesture, his face reverent. It earned him a gruff scoff from Flint.

“…And their good-hearted temporary quartermaster, who is very much doing the same.” He concluded with his brow raised sarcastically.

“I appreciate your help-”

“We’re in this together, Mr. Silver.” – Flint interrupted him and promptly stood up – “Lighter’s ready?” Silver nodded and they both hurried outside to finally get themselves in the boat and reach the coast of Nassau. Before leaving the ship, they gave extensive instructions to two scouts, who were then immediately sent out back to the _Urca_.

They had discussed various ship’s matters while rowing to the shore, agreeing upon leaving the Spanish sails for now and acquiring the new ones without very conspicuous crosses when such opportunity arises. After Flint’s meticulous inspection it turned out that the warship had been already stocked pretty well and Silver was expected to be done with his business with local vendors in a couple of hours.

“Do you need something else?” John asked, watching how Flint was observing the shore and jetty with his lips pursed tightly.

“In fact, I do, since you’re asking so nicely.” – He said, winking at John – “Before returning to the ship, go see Mosiah’s widow, I need her special herbs, miswak and coco butter, a crate of each.”

“Alright, will do.” Silver smirked and thought about Flint’s ever-present grooming routine that he witnessed during their stay in the berth. The captain was truly the cleanest and most well-groomed pirate in the West Indies. John decided to pick up some of Flint’s habits himself. “Till later, then.”

Flint answered with a curt nod and dashed out of the boat, energetically striding through the colorful crowd on the pier. Silver guessed that it was neither Miss Guthrie nor captain Hornigold that Flint was dying to visit now. He thought of a mysterious woman living in the interior and an uneasy and irritating feeling clamped his innards tightly.

***

John Silver was impressed by himself: he found it absolutely ridiculous how the idea of Flint in the arms of that faceless woman kept coming to his mind throughout this very eventful day. Even though he was feeling suffocated and cornered by his desires that were being subdued for too long, he still managed to strike a couple of profitable deals for the ship and crew, met the most reliable potential recruits and was ready with his duties long before the agreed time.

That spurred his decision to visit the brothel. Upon hearing the latest news about Nassau’s fort, Hornigold, Vane and Guthrie’s business he was more than willing to spend more time than planned on gathering necessary intelligence. Obviously, Flint was going to be furious about his rival taking over port’s defense and Silver was somewhat glad he was not the one to break the news. He figured, where, if not in the brothel, would he encounter even more frustrated sailors ready to gossip _or_ join their crew. It also would not hurt to get his dick sucked by one of the lovely employees, John thought, maybe it could help to distract him from the visions of dainty fingers scratching one particular freckled back. Truly killing three birds with one stone.

Soon enough he was lounging against the bar, drinking ale and taking in all the conversations around him at once.

“Oh, you again, are you here to just watch?” – a young buxom brunette approached him from the left, a teasing smile on her plump lips. John recognized her as the girl who was giving him his cover to spy on that failed deal between Rackham and Max.

“That time I was here strictly for business, love.” He said nonchalantly, smiling at her.

“Mixing it with pleasure tonight?” She asked, running her hand up his chest and stroking him lightly with her fingertips.

“You’d give me a second chance?” John huffed and downed his drink, trying to concentrate on this distraction, sending the thoughts of Flint to the corner of his mind and eager to make it work.

“Sure, darling, it happens all too rarely when such handsome fellow like you come around here and I don’t wanna miss my chance.” She purred, smiling at him seductively and taking him by the hand. They went to the same room they occupied before. 

The whore started to undress him as soon as the door was closed and John entertained the idea, that she did not lie about missing her chance and actually wanted to fuck him. Her small pale hands were on his tanned hips and Silver could not help to draw comparison between that sight and his insistent jealous fantasies. He was pressed against the door, his breeches pulled to his ankles and a very experienced mouth was tending to his nether regions. However, he found it extremely hard to relax and tune out the noise coming from the hall. His mind was jumping from one thing to another and he was genuinely thankful that he was at least hard, he did not want to insult the girl with blatant disinterest of that kind. It was all John’s fault…and Flint’s, but, still, more John’s.

“-be, when I see that moron!” – John heard a gruff voice of a man approaching the door he was pressed into – “I never said watch out _only_ for the _Walrus_ , I remember myself saying to watch every fucking ship in the bay and around it.” – Immediately John’s focus shifted entirely to the men talking in the corridor, they walked past their room and were now certainly standing at the next door – “In here?” He heard the other man confirming briskly and then there was some insistent knocking, followed by swearing from both sides.

John put his hands on the whore’s head and gently but promptly removed himself out of her mouth. With a fleeting smile he whispered. “I’m terribly sorry, love, business again!” He slid right to the peephole he was using last time and rushed to lace up his pants. He heard whore’s muttering of ‘Jesus Christ’ as she threw herself onto the bed with a frustrated groan.

John saw two men standing above the bed, towering over the frightened couple laying there.

“Tell me, Peter, what’s your role on my crew?” Said the tall man with his dagger pointing at Peter’s throat.

“I’m your scout, captain Low.” Came a half-strangled reply.

“If you’re my scout, Peter, why was that Mr. Tate here, who brought me the news of captain Flint being seen coming into the Guthrie woman’s office?” Silver had felt tingling in his hands and feet when he heard his captain’s name in that unfriendly exchange. He peered unblinking into the hole, trying not to miss anything.

“Captain, sir, there was no sight of the _Walrus_ , I swear-” John saw how the captain carefully placed the tip of the dagger into the man’s nostril.

“You have failed to perform your duty, Peter, and I was so annoyed by it, that I came down here personally to inform you, that I am gonna have to let you go, but not without a little token…”

John heard a sudden cry and saw Peter grabbing his forever deformed nose with his palms, and curling himself into a fetal position on the bed. Low then quickly left the room, without giving John a chance to see his face. Silver turned around to the whore, who was watching him with a bored expression on her pretty face.

“What do you know about one captain Low?” He asked her, retrieving some coins out of his pocket and placing them on her already outstretched palm.

“Nothing good: his _Fancy_ anchored here for less than a month and already ten people turned up dead, his men are all absolute bastards, treating girls here like crap, and he’s only encouraging them. He’s also making threats against Guthrie: beheaded her right-hand man in her own tavern.”

“Thank you very much, darling, here is some more for the inconvenience.” John said with a disarming smile and hurried out of the brothel to search for his captain.

Apparently, there was that certain maniac with a very short temper, who wanted something from Flint. Even more obvious was that such acquaintance was not going to bring anything but trouble. He had to find Flint and warn him. He prayed not to be too late for that, picturing Flint ambushed after leaving Eleanor’s office alone. Silver rushed to the tavern, terrible worry shaking him to his bones.

***

_Tortuga, 1709_

The air around him was stifling, making a muddled mess out of his mind. He could not concentrate on anything in particular, even though he had already tried a dozen times. And there was enough to think about: some fresh cargo to shift, few possible prizes to hunt, their next course to plan. He had come alone to this tavern and almost immediately regretted it. The place was full to the brim, loud drunk exchanges and laughter were deafening. However, he decided to stay out of stubbornness, and at least get drunk before heading to his inn, thus celebrating his first night in the famous pirate port as one of its kind.

He had been sailing around Hispaniola extensively during his years in the Navy, but never cared to set his foot on the Isle of Tortuga: the lawless port bribed enough officials back home, so it was never a priority for his commanders. Now, sitting in one of the rowdiest port taverns in town, surrounded by criminals and whores, and methodically getting shitfaced, he thought that it was probably better that way. James McGraw would never have found such a place acceptable neither for an officer nor a gentleman. Whoever the hell he had become, _he_ was beginning to like it.

That was somehow soothing to sit at the bar and get lost in the noisy chatter around him, it gave him an opportunity to zone out and even imagine that his life was not an utter nightmare, forget about his loss gnawing at him for some fleeting moments. Such opportunity did not emerge often, as, when he was not busy wrecking havoc on numerous prizes they had been hunting relentlessly for the whole year, he was mostly trapped in his cabin, alone with his thoughts. He sat in silence, unable to concentrate on anything of relevance. He wept, cursed and raged, but overwhelming guilt and sorrow did not go away, leaving him exhausted and breathless.

He did not plan to ease up on the drinking just yet, grabbed his tankard of warm rum and downed it with a quiet hiss. He looked around to locate a barkeep and only then noticed, that he was being watched. A young fair-haired man stood beside the bar, leaning lazily against the counter, and observing him closely. James felt slightly uneasy under that scrutinizing gaze but did not allow himself to show it. He cocked his head, caught the stranger’s eye and stared back with impenetrable facial expression, sending a signal, that he was not the one to fuck with.

The young man held his gaze for another moment and then smirked, his eyes traveling to James’s arms and folded hands. That was not new for him in any way, free ports like Tortuga attracted all sorts of deviants and James, ever so practical, learned to distinguish them pretty well. The stranger was good-looking: young, probably in his early twenties, tall and wiry, with glowing tanned skin, wavy hair and pale blue eyes. And, apparently, tonight he was interested in James, as he seemed to welcome his appraising gaze, still smirking and running his fingers through his blond beard.

However, James reminded himself, tonight was for drinking. Fucking had also been a good distraction and he indulged in it now and then, seeking warmth of another body in order to forget about a gaping hole in his heart for a little while. But it was too dangerous to go down this road tonight: he was new in this port. He averted his eyes and gestured a maid for a refill.

“Ain’t you a new captain ‘ere?” – He heard a gruff voice and glanced around his shoulder – “Flint, innit?”

There were three men standing behind him, peering at him menacingly, clearly looking for a fight.

“I am.” James replied, swiveling on his stool and grasping his tankard tightly. 

“All ’em new captains on the island gotsta pay a fee to captain Reid.” – The man in the middle said, his hands toying with a knife – “Yer ship been anchored in our port all day and we ain’t seen a piece from you yet.”

“And you won’t.” Flint said, taking a sip of his rum.

“Feelin’ lucky tonight, you prick?” Growled a scarred man on the left, but he was interrupted by his other companion.

“Oi, lads, this fella just arrived today, probably for the first time, ye? He just don’t know how we do things here.” The scrawny man said, in a fake friendly tone. Flint reacted to it with a mocking nod and an outstretched finger.

“If you wanna hunt around and harbour ‘ere, you pay captain Reid fifteen percent of the haul.” The leader said, spitting on the ground near Flint’s feet.

“Fifteen percent, is that so? Why not fucking fifty?” James asked, feeling increasingly annoyed. He did not plan to resort to violence tonight, but he was quickly losing his patience, and, well, it was also some sort of distraction.

“You daft cocksucker, can’t you see that you’re not in a position to be cheeky with us?” The scarred man roared, drawing attention of the whole tavern. The noise subsided significantly, so everyone could hear his next words – “If you ain’t paying, we gonna skin you like a pig and hang you on display in the harbor!”

Upon hearing that inelegant threat, Flint did not need waiting another second. He splashed rum out of his tankard in the scrawny man’s face, kicked the scarred man between the legs with all his force and planted his fist into the gut of their leader. He ducked, evading the attack from the scrawny man, while simultaneously snatching the dagger from its sheathe on the stumbling leader’s chest. Mere moments later he stood above three corpses with a bloody dagger in his hand, the whole fight did not last even a minute.

There was a quiet murmur in the tavern, other patrons watching him warily as he calmly turned to the pale barkeep and asked for another rum. He downed it quickly and tossed a few coins for his drinks, not paying any attention to the shocked crowd around him.

“Sorry about the mess, I guess it’s on captain Reid now.” He said to the barkeep and headed out of the building.

He thought about the times when he felt queasy at the idea of taking someone else’s life. Damn, that was so long ago. He still remembered his first kill vividly, but all the others blurred into an incoherent mess. The incident doubled his annoyance, for he just could not find any remorse in his heart. It was not easy for him to admit that he was becoming a monster, but it seemed that it was his painful reality. Plus, all his efforts of getting drunk were in vain, as the rush of adrenaline from the bar fight effectively cleared his head, again leaving him in darkened turmoil.

He was walking down the dark street to his inn when he heard light steps behind him. He instantly turned around with his hand on a hilt of his cutlass.

He was only mildly surprised to see the young man from the tavern, now looking at him with a half-smile and holding his hands where Flint could see them. James steadied himself and questioningly arched his brow.

“That was quite a show down there…Extraordinary efficient, aren’t you?” The man said, still smiling at him.

“What do you want?” Flint asked abruptly, not in the mood for playing games.

“I don’t mean you no harm, just wanted to express my polite admiration, captain Flint.” – the man flashed him a toothy grin, lazily leaning his lithe body against the nearest wall– “I very rarely have a pleasure to witness such mastery with a blade, and if I could, I would watch it _all the time_.”

James looked at the young man pensively. “Who are you?”

“Ned Low, bosun of the _Swallow_ ,” – he said, tilting his head and staring at Flint, as if he was captivated.

“Well, Ned Low, in any other circumstances I’d pretend to be glad to make your acquaintance, but frankly right now I’m not in the mood.” James said, holding the eye contact. He did not try to antagonize this fellow. “I’ll be on my way.”

“I believe you’re heading into a trap, captain.” – Ned said nonchalantly, crossing his arms – “That barkeep knows who you are and where you’re staying tonight. Just after you’ve left, he sent a servant to inform captain Reid about your transgression in his establishment. I think they’ll be waiting for you near your inn, which is just around the corner, and they are eager to retaliate.”

“And you’re warning me out of the goodness of your heart?” Flint smirked, not trying to hide his amusement.

“Not gonna pretend… Some self-interest is involved…” The young man said with another grin and then allowed his gaze to travel along Flint’s body in a very obvious manner. Flint returned it, noticing Ned’s broad shoulders and narrow hips, appreciating his great physique. Maybe he could be swayed by the fair bosun after all, they clearly shared their preferences.

“I see…” He started, but immediately cut himself off and drew his pistols, as soon as he heard a group of man approaching from around the corner.

“Yeah, he said the prick was on the way here, so he must’ve taken this road to the-” He heard a man saying to his companions.

There were five of them and that would be an unfair fight, had the men a chance to spot him earlier, regroup and attack him all at once. But Flint did not give them that chance, effectively shooting two of them point blank, dropping the pistols and advancing on the nearest man with his unsheathed cutlass, slashing his throat with a surgical precision. The other two were so startled by this sudden attack, that it took them too long to even draw a weapon.

Pale moonlight shone down on the aftermath of that failed ambush: four motionless bodies and one man writhing in pain on the ground. Low stood nearby with his own cutlass drawn, though he did not have a chance to use it.

“So, captain Reid is one persistent bastard, isn’t he?” James said, catching his breath and looming over the only pirate left alive. He saw Ned nodding and finished the ambusher with a stab in his throat. He quickly picked up his pistols and wiped his blade with a neckerchief of one of the victims. Only then he glanced back to bosun and faltered.

Low’s face could be only described as feral, a wide grin contorted his mouth, his nostrils flared and his eyes on Flint were like embers. He slowly, ever so slowly, got closer to James, without breaking an eye contact, stepping over the dead bodies. He moved like a predator under cover of darkness and Flint was mesmerized by his animalistic grace.

When he was within arm’s reach, Low stopped and grabbed his own crotch to clearly show James how hard he was. Flint’s gaze involuntarily focused on it, and his mouth suddenly went dry. He looked at Ned’s face again and was stunned by his expression of raw desire.

“I gotta have you.” Low rasped in a guttural voice, that made Flint shiver. The young man was breathing hard and did not try hiding his agitation.

“Tonight, you are in luck.” – Flint said, curling his lip, at that, Ned tried to close the distance between them, but Flint stopped him with the palm against his chest – “Not here, there might be more of them coming. I can’t stay at that inn though, do you have a place?”

“Follow me.” Bosun said abruptly and headed out to the western part of the port. They reached a bungalow in no time and hurried to disappear inside. Ned rushed to lit up a couple of candles, that softly illuminated the space, most of it occupied by a wide bed.

“Help yourself to anything.” He said, gesturing to a small table with a bottle of rum and a fruit basket. He took off his jacket and threw it in the corner.

“Seems like you’ve had plans for tonight.” Flint remarked, filling up two cups and taking a bite of a juicy cocoplum, his eyes following Low.

“I’ve nipped out to make some arrangements, as soon as I saw you in the tavern. Was back in the nick of time.”

Flint snorted with laughter, looking at him incredulously. “Very fucking presumptuous of you.”

“I’m an optimist.” He approached him, downed his drink, setting his glass aside, took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Flint took in his slim masculine figure, lightly tanned and taut, his chest and arms were adorned by myriad of faded scars. It was obvious that he was aware how he looked, and Flint found his calm confidence very appealing.

The young man was again staring into his eyes intently, when he bent down and took a bite of the cocoplum that Flint was holding. Sweet juice trickled down James’s hand, and Ned eagerly lapped it up with his tongue. Then he straightened his back and gave Flint a shit-eating grin, his lips glistening in the candlelight. James smiled back involuntarily and hooked his fingers on Ned’s belt, bringing him closer. He teasingly neared his face to Low’s, letting their hot breaths mingle for a while. They both chuckled and in this moment, Flint felt elated, easy, young and alive: complete opposite of the feeling of his usual lonely nights. He slowly got closer and tilted his head, catching Ned’s lower lip between his teeth and tugging lightly. Ned breathed out sharply and moaned into Flint’s mouth, sliding his tongue over Flint’s lips, sweet and fragrant taste between them. James hummed contentedly and brushed his knuckles over Low’s fit abdomen. Most of his encounters had not felt that exciting, and he was glad to feel his blood running hot with lust once again.

“What’s on your mind?” He murmured against Ned’s ear.

“You’re wielding a blade like no other… I knew straight away you were dangerous and that I want you.” – He answered rather smugly, ridding Flint of his coat and shirt and running his palms over the broad chest – “Couldn’t take my eyes off you, _fuck_ , you’re so…” – His breath hitched, when Flint grabbed his crotch tightly, nipping his neck – “And the way you dealt with those pigs earlier…I’ve been hard ever since…” He said in a gruff voice, pushing down Flint’s trousers and taking his cock in a loose fist. He was stroking him slowly, appreciating ample girth and length, his breath becoming more ragged. Flint planted his left hand on the back of Ned’s head, while his right one tugged their breeches down.

“Some deviant fuck you are, if the sight of death turns you on…” Flint said, biting Low’s collarbone, it elicited a load moan from the younger man.

“What can I say, I like what I like…” – He answered, running his hands up and down Flint’s torso, and then taking his face between his palms, – “I want you to draw my blood, cut me… _lightly_ …when we fuck, would you?” 

“Yeah, if you want me to.” Flint said, grabbing Ned’s hair tighter.

The kisses they shared were deep and passionate and completely overwhelming. Ned advanced on him with vigor, his hands and mouth caressing every patch of skin they could reach. Soon Flint found himself sprawled on the bed with Low straddling his thighs. Despite of the fact that they were both painfully erect, they did not rush to get to fucking, spending copious amount of time stroking and teasing each other. Flint had always been a generous and inventive lover, and it seemed that Low was his match in that regard.

“ _Fuck_ , can’t wait any longer.” Ned moaned with a breathless laugh. He reached out to grab a vial of oil and his own sheathed dagger from the table. Flint tensed momentarily, watching his movements closely. Ned gave the dagger to James, peering into his eyes with almost insane intensity.

Flint unsheathed the blade, while Low worked on himself with oil, slicking them both. James experimentally ran the weapon flat over Ned’s chest, cold steel getting in contact with his overheated skin. As he caught his hungry gaze, he let the tip of the blade breach skin of Ned’s chest, couple of blood droplets appearing, eliciting guttural groan from the man. Low had looked down at himself and upon seeing blood his face turned feral again.

“ _Yes_ , _more_ …” He whispered and started lowering his body on Flint’s hard cock.

As he was going down to take him, Flint slowly made two precise shallow cuts over Ned’s abdomen, and two over his collarbone, knowing that this sort of damage was a bit less harmful but will bleed profusely. They simultaneously groaned with pleasure, as Flint felt his cock being fully sheathed inside the younger man’s willing body.

Ned sat straight on top of him, his smug smirk and disheveled hair making him look deliciously devious, more blood trickling down them both. He looked down his own torso, to the place where their bodies connected, to his cock standing proudly and smeared the bleeding cuts on his chest with his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking on them.

Flint gasped, feeling his own mouth go slack, grabbed Ned’s slender hips and pushed him up, thrusting into him forcefully. The pace was perfect, and with Low grinding down on him, meeting his every thrust halfway, Flint found himself really letting go of all his worries and enjoying that carnal pleasure. Ned ran his hands over his abdomen and smeared his bloodied palms all over Flint’s chest. The sight must have been too much for him because he moaned loudly and eagerly lapped the mess up, all the while riding James with ideal rhythm.

“I won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow…” – His half-strangled voice and his moaning reverberated in the crumpled space – “You’re perfect…”

“I could fuck you for days.” James said, reaching up to lick a broad stripe across Ned’s chest and over the cuts, tasting his blood. It earned him more gruff moans, their lips met again, relishing the metallic taste on their tongues.

The kiss sparked even more fire between them, bodies approaching their release with feverish haste, until Low cried out ecstatically, his legs and ass clenching around Flint. Ned shifted back, spearing himself deeply on Flint’s throbbing cock, and palmed his own, spurting all over his torso. Cum, blood and sweat covered his fit upper body, so hot and filthy that it took Flint only a couple of thrust to come undone deep inside him.

The younger man collapsed on top of him, his labored breath hot against James’ ear.

“That was only the first round, captain.” He heard him saying and felt, rather than saw, his wicked smirk. Low’s fingers were caressing his scalp and he hummed in delight.

“Thank God for that.” Flint breathed out with a chuckle, running his hands over Ned’s back and biting his neck.


	8. Chapter 8

“It doesn’t concern you?”

That question interrupted rather uncomfortable silence that settled in Hornigold’s tent after Silver had barged in, announcing his intention to wait for captain Flint there, as the latter was nowhere else to be found. Mr. Scott seemed unimpressed by such intention and was ready to throw him out, however, after learning about John’s new position in the crew he reluctantly let him stay. Hornigold was in no condition to object, he seemingly did not care much for what was happening around him, wrecked by his humiliation. Losing that fort must have been a very hard blow for the aging privateer, Silver thought, though without much sympathy. He himself had never possessed any real property, so Hornigold’s struggle did not concern him at all.

“Pardon?” He uttered, regarding the old man before him.

“When you set sail, my friend had his ear and you were ballast,” – Hornigold said with a derisive smirk – “Then he calls my friend a mutineer and puts him in the sea. Now he’s giving _you_ his ear.” – He shook his head, staring Silver down – “How can you stand so close to him knowing what he’s capable of and that sooner or later you’ll be next?”

John made sure to show none of the emotions that the implication had brought out in him. Of course, Hornigold could not possibly know the whole story behind the recent drama, but his question was still unnervingly valid. How could John ever rely on a person so volatile, so driven? And, at the same time, how could he _not_ be willing to stand close to him? Was he really up for a challenge to be captain’s new confidante?

“Five million pieces of eight.” – He replied nonchalantly, tilting his head to the side – “Besides, Mr. Gates’ plans of deposing captain Flint after the taking of prize are well-known among the crew. You sure _you_ ’ve never heard of it?”

Judging by Hornigold’s squinted eye, John had succeeded in bringing up a very uncomfortable subject. Silver did not expect such experienced and cunning individual like Ben Hornigold to give himself away easily, surely not because of his innocent question, but he was watching his opponent very closely, noticing little twitch of his jaw. That was indeed interesting. However, they were interrupted before Hornigold had a chance to answer.

Flint walked into the tent with a kind of pensive expression on his face. John was genuinely surprised to see him so composed, he expected Flint to be raging and fuming, after all, his biggest rival had gained an upper hand in controlling the bay while he was away on a fruitless expedition.

“You been at Guthrie’s?” – Hornigold immediately asked, watching Flint intently, as he only nodded in reply – “Either we act now to remove him, or no one will!” He barked out agitatedly.

“We don’t have time for this.” – Flint said, looking around him and catching John’s eye – “Every day wasted dealing with this is a day closer to losing that gold.” He stated, not interrupting the eye contact as if conveying John something particular with it.

“Then I suggest we act quickly.” The old man said forcefully, as though possessing some authority over them all.

“I’m afraid, in order to resolve that issue, I have to consult my quartermaster and my crew first.” Flint’s voice sounded almost metallic, he tilted his head to the exit and John recognized it as a sign that they were through here. He quickly stood up and approached Flint at his right side.

“Don’t give me that shit!” – Hornigold yelled out, obviously shocked that the meeting was already over – “Previously you had no concern whatsoever…” Flint’s fiery gaze cut him off, and the privateer could only shake his head in total disbelief, exchanging anxious glances with Mr. Scott.

“Captain Hornigold. Mister Scott.” Flint said sternly and, with a curt nod, left the company. John followed him, allowing himself to look around his shoulder to register Hornigold’s distressed expression and grin inwardly at it.

They were walking down the beach away from the Hornigold’s camp. Flint had not said a thing to him yet and Silver was flooded with questions, but painfully aware of captain’s infamous mood swings. Unwilling to rouse his ire and, at the same time, unable to stay silent any longer he ventured with a rather obvious remark.

“So…Old Ben was not very pleased…” He said gingerly, glancing at Flint’s profile.

“He might as well have a stroke, I don’t care.” Flint said abruptly, but Silver got a suspicion that the captain’s irritation was not directed at him, but rather at the whole situation.

“We’re not that lucky, captain.” John said, watching a corner of Flint’s mouth twitch, which only proved his guess. Feeling a bit more confident, Silver dared to proceed. “Despite that whole turmoil in the port, everything went off according to plan tonight: all supplies are loaded, among the prospects are some able carpenters and gunners, we’ll for sure be able to sail in the next couple of days.”

Flint hummed, glancing at the dark shore and ruffling his hair. John waited another moment to give him some kind of verbal reply and, not receiving any, decided to risk asking the uncomfortable question.

“Captain, what are you planning to do about Vane in that fort?”

“Nothing.” – Flint looked at him with his brow furrowed – “What I said to Hornigold just now and what I said to you the other night – I was being sincere. We don’t have time for that bullshit. Fuck other crews and their squabbles.”

“You can’t even imagine how relieved I am to hear it from you.” He said with a wide smile, feeling almost ecstatic. During the whole day he had had a gnawing fear that Flint would decide to get into the island’s politics again, which could only result in them wasting precious time and being at odds. Hearing that returning for gold was still Flint’s number one priority was like a balm for his soul.

“Storing all the gold in that dilapidated fort of our practically lawless pirate port doesn’t seem that wise at the very least. There are about five hundred of discovered islands in these waters and who knows how many uncharted ones,” – Flint said almost breezily – “You might think we’d be able to find _some_ place to secure the bulk of the prize. ” He waved his hand noncommittally in the direction of the ocean.

“Bury it all in the sand and mark it on a secret map?” Silver teased merrily, unable to control his excitement.

“Why the hell not?” – Flint arched his brow and flashed him a toothy grin – “Numerous people before us had done even more foolish things with their treasures.”

John laughed and once again wondered how Flint and he had managed to achieve that level of easy openness in mere days. It’s true, he met Flint after the real hunt for _Urca_ had already began, so he was not sure if it was because of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders or if Flint had always been a brooding gloomy type, but, judging by crew’s reaction to him and by the tales of his past escapades, he was far from being chummy with almost everybody. Apart from Mr. Gates, the woman from the interior and now him.

“What about Miss Guthrie?” He asked curiously.

Flint looked back at the lights of the tavern, still visible from the distance, a crease appearing between his brows. “Miss Guthrie has a lot on her plate right now, but she’s managing it. She’ll help us with our potential mutineers. She is going to get her promised share in the end. Apart from that, I believe Eleanor is too practical to be loyal, and can make the toughest decisions when necessary. I’m somewhat glad she’s inclined to stay here and improve Nassau. It gives me hope that maybe this place is going to have once envisioned future after all, though without me witnessing it.” His last words were uttered quietly and almost melancholically, and Silver had to think again about what it might have felt like to abandon one’s far-reaching plans, especially for a man like Flint.

“You hold her in high regard.” John said sympathetically, watching captain’s face.

“She deserves it.” – He replied simply with a shrug – “Anyway, we have concerns of our own. Everything should be ready till tomorrow evening, that’s when we get rid of our mutineers. You’ve said all is packed and loaded, my special order too?”

“Yes, Abeni was very helpful, I even got some miswak and butter for myself.” Said very pleased John.

“Oh yeah? Glad to hear it.” – Flint gave him half a smile – “Now, I believe it’s time to return aboard.”

As soon as he thought about rowing out of the bay to the warship under the starry skies, he was shocked to realize that he forgot to mention something quite important to Flint.

“Jesus Christ, captain, I didn’t tell you about what I’ve witnessed in the brothel today!” John blurted out, becoming increasingly agitated and looking around him frantically. What if Low’s people were following Flint all day long plotting an ambush, what if they decide to attack right now?!

“Mr. Silver, I don’t know where this is going, but I’d advise you not to ply me with your brothel tales, except maybe the most outrageous ones.” Flint huffed out a laugh, with an amused look on his face and his brow arched.

“Shit, that’s not what I…” – John kept looking around, peering into the darkness to no avail, every moonlit shape looked positively menacing – “Stay alert.”

“I’m always alert.” – Flint said, sounding serious this time – “Come on, spit it out!”

“Have you noticed that you were being followed today?”

“I’ve spotted one suspicious looking fellow this morning, as I was heading to Eleanor’s. Why? What did you find out?” Flint caught John’s gaze again and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“As it turns out one very disagreeable pirate captain is apparently looking for you, even ordering his men to keep an eye for the _Walrus_. According to brothel employees he’s new here, and a right bastard, threatened Miss Guthrie as well. But he’s dying to meet you, specifically.” John told Flint, not even trying to sound unconcerned.

“Eleanor mentioned some problems with newcomers but said that it was under control now. You know the name of this captain?” Flint still held his hand on John, which was surprisingly calming.

“Ned Low, you know him?” John was watching Flint’s amused face carefully. Captain had moved his hand from Silver’s shoulder and pensively stroked his beard. There was, of course, no fear on his face, not even annoyance in his features, just this slight amusement.

“Met him a couple of times. Don’t worry about it.” Flint said dismissively.

“It’s rather difficult not to worry about it, this Low had hurt a man pretty badly just because he failed to report spotting the warship. He couldn’t have possibly known that you are her captain now, and still that poor bastard lost his nose for it!” – Silver said with urgency – “Who knows what-”

“I told you, we’ve met before.” – Flint gestured to the longboats – “It’s time you return to the ship, I don’t want the crew to grow restless.”

“And you?” Silver snapped, trying his best to read Flint’s expression.

“And I’m staying ashore.”

“You are going to meet him _now_?!” – Silver shook his head in disbelief – “Didn’t I tell you? He _decapitated_ one of Guthrie’s men. Do you think it’s wise to venture out _alone_ to seek his audience? Hell, why even meet him? Judging by his reputation I don’t believe he has anything nice to say to you!”

“No need to fret, Mr. Silver, I am perfectly capable to take care of myself. However, you still have your duties on board, don’t let them drink too much.” Flint proclaimed, sounding almost bored.

“Captain, I truly believe you to be a very capable man, but what you’re about to do - it’s just pure recklessness!” John desperately tried not to sound like a mother hen, but he just could not grasp why the hell Flint was so nonchalant about that violent man who was, for whatever reason, looking for him.

“It’s nothing, John, I’m going to handle this.” Flint said sternly and his commanding tone indicated that this discussion was finished.

Flint stood on the beach for quite some time, watching John row away. Silver could barely see his figure, but still registered some movement, which indicated him that he could finally stop pretending to row at a normal pace. Of course, as soon as he saw that the coast was clear he immediately disobeyed captain’s order and stirred back. It did not take too long for John Silver to persuade himself that what he was doing was necessary not just for his captain’s safety, but for his own goals. Hell, it might be even vital for their whole operation and he could not allow his crew to lose their captain, not now, and definitely not because of said captain’s obtuse stubbornness.

He reached the coast quickly and warily went down the road to town, half expecting Flint to emerge from behind a tree at any giving moment and punish him for not following orders. However, it seemed captain actually valued his time and did not waste it on trying to teach John a valuable lesson. Silver met only a couple of drunks on his way and, approaching the town square, hid in the shadows of the side street, contemplating on where to go first. The most logical option was to head straight to the brothel, Flint would undoubtfully decide to do the same. After all, the place was probably packed with crewmembers of every single anchored ship, apart from theirs.

His line of thought was quickly proved to be correct. John used the backdoor that Max showed him last time and was now watching the crowd on the main floor from the storage room. Even storage rooms in that brothel had been equipped with peep holes.

Flint was standing at the bar, conversing amiably with Max, who had her hand on his forearm and was smiling coyly. Just for a second Silver entertained the idea, that captain only wanted to unwind with the girls’ help, but, unsurprisingly, it was not the case. With a wink, Max left and strutted to a loud company of men sitting in the far corner.

About quarter of an hour passed with Flint simply sitting down and sipping his rum and John peering through the peep hole, feeling like a goddamn fool and chastising himself for overreacting. He had already considered leaving, when a man entered and quickly moved to the bar, positioning himself right next to Flint. He was around John’s age, tanned, fair-haired and tall. Even from the distance Silver could plainly see a scar across his right eye and his predatory smirk, that John did not like one bit. Similar to Flint, there was something in that man which made one look twice.

Silver could neither hear nor see how Flint reacted to the company. Not another minute after downing their glasses, they left the establishment together. John had not anticipated such prompt departure and rushed outside, frantically looking around for two tall figures. They were walking in the direction of a residential area of the port, John followed them silently, discreetly keeping himself in the shadows of side streets. When his targets disappeared in an old one-storey cottage, John had to quickly assess the environment and run around to the back, where he found a conveniently open window. He silently crawled under it, making sure to peer into the room from the bottom corner, where he could observe them perfectly, without a chance of being spotted right away.

“I’ve been told that you were seeking me out, Ned. Pray tell, what for?” Flint said, leaning on a beam and crossing his arms.

“Long time no see, isn’t that a reason good enough?” Low poured two glasses and profited one to Flint, smiling wickedly.

“Our last interaction was far from friendly, if I recall correctly.” Flint took the glass, nonetheless, watching Low’s every movement.

“I have to apologize to you for that, I don’t know what I’d been thinking then.” Low looked somewhat abashed, his tone sorrowful, and it shocked Silver. He did not expect such compliance from the man, who made a habit of mutilation.

However, Flint did not seem to be impressed one bit and only raised his brow sardonically, offering no response. Silver was watching in shock how the feared Ned Low squirmed under that gaze and raised his hands apologetically.

“I admit that I didn’t take your refusal to sail together with consideration. I was livid and didn’t want to see your reason behind it. I am sorry for that.” He said very seriously.

“Can you see my reason now?” Flint asked conversationally, sipping his drink.

“It took me a while. You hurt my pride badly last time-” Ned said and pursed his lips.

“-I didn’t want us to sail together because you are a mad cunt, Ned, and what I’ve heard about you recently only proves my point.” – Flint interrupted him, he was calm, his figure unmoving.

John held his breath, he was sure that some bloody drama was about to unravel before his eyes, seeing how his captain had just insulted that wicked man. However, the wicked man in question was not insulted at all, quite in contrary, he seemed delighted. His predatory grin was back on his handsome face and he slowly approached Flint, staring into his eyes uninterruptedly.

“I have no inclination to be your quartermaster, James, not anymore,” – Low purred – “Quite happy to be a captain myself actually. I don’t bear any grudge against you.” Silver could not believe that Flint allowed that man such familiarity. 

“Oh, don’t you really?” – Flint cocked his head to the side – “So what do you want from me then?”

Low did not answer him right away, letting tense silence linger between them. John held his breath, while watching Ned Low placing his hand on Flint’s chest. To his surprise, captain did not react to the touch with defiance, but only locked his eyes with the man opposite him.

Low’s palm moved slowly downwards, caressing Flint’s abdomen on the way and stopping, upon reaching the laces of his breeches.

“Same thing I’ve always wanted from you…” – Ned growled, licking his lips anxiously – “I missed you so badly.”

At that admission, John had to bite the inside of his cheek to stay silent. He felt blinding anger filling his chest, his face heated up and his fists clenched. He had never felt anything like that before and he was not enjoying it. Low and Flint had a history together, and that history was apparently intimate in nature. The urge to leap into the opened window and end that scene was almost intolerable. Only his self-preservation instinct made him stay put.

Meanwhile Low’s hands were not idle, cupping Flint’s groin with one and grasping his neck with another. Silver watched how Low pulled his captain into a heated kiss and how Flint returned it with vigor, burying his hands in Ned’s blonde hair. John hated them both for it. He could not bear to watch, but he could not turn his gaze away as well.

It was torturous to see how everything that he himself wanted to do to Flint was being done to him by another man. Every gasp of breath, every moan, every caress left a bleeding wound deep inside of him.

He saw Low falling down to his knees, unlacing Flint’s trousers and attacking his thickening cock with his eager mouth. They both moaned and John felt like he was watching a well-practiced play.

“ _Fuck_ …” Flint whispered, leaning heavily onto the beam with his mouth agape. He shuddered and let his eyes close.

He had to get out of there. It was obvious, that captain’s life was not in danger. He did his duty as a sly quartermaster and now could peacefully return to the ship and try to forget about that sodding affair. “That’s how he would look if I…” John thought, focusing on Flint’s form. He looked and sounded magnificent, just like John had imagined, and the fact, that it was not John who was causing it, was so unbearable, that it finally stirred him into motion.

He stumbled to his feet and silently walked away from that goddamn window. After a dozen of unsteady steps, he started running to the beach. His throat itched like he was about to throw up and he could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. He could not erase the images of Low on his knees before Flint. Now he understood discarded lovers committing heinous crimes towards the objects of their passion. If that was how jealousy felt like, Silver would not wish that on his worst enemy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for kudos! I felt motivated to update soon-ish and, inexplicably, went on with that filler. We're still pining, people.

Entrusting John with the task of recruitment was proven to be a blessing in disguise. It was tiresome, time-consuming and extremely important. It made him concentrate. It helped him banish unpleasant memories from his head and all morning long he felt relatively at ease. The number of cretins he had interviewed so far was astonishing, which was fairly entertaining.

Though the fact that Flint still had not returned onboard did not escape him, John forced himself not to dwell on his thoughts about what the captain was up to. Naturally, his mood was far from perfect and that aided him in his task tremendously.

“Excuse me, _one and a half_ to a _waister_ with your experience? Really fucking funny, mate. How long are you planning to _waste_ my time here?”

“One-point-five, sir, that’s it! Ask anyone, ol’ Williams is the best shot of all free ports!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, dumber than a bag of hammers that one! Oi, Joji! Would you be so kind to throw this fool overboard?!” He snapped, piercing Mr. Williams through with his annoyed gaze. That gunner was sure testing his limits with him, just as other seekers before him had tried, but his unrelenting badgering for a bigger share of profits was getting obnoxious.

“Hey, hey! You gotta problem with me, quartermaster, you handle it yourself!” Williams said half-jokingly, looking around him as if spurring others to amuse themselves with the situation.

John had never resorted to violence when he could help it. His preferred methods of handling conflicts were careful words and sly grins. However, he was also fit and strong from hard work on ships, pretty quick as well and he knew where to strike. His left fist had plunged into Williams’ belly, which made the man bent double, a moment later John’s right one landed square on man’s face, sending the gunner to lay on the floor unconscious.

The whole weather deck erupted in cheers and gruff laughter. John heard a couple of excited “Aye, Silver!” and “Attaboy!”. Not only was it extremely satisfying to wipe that aggravating smirk from Williams’ face, he had also just scored well with his crew with this impromptu. They all could never be allowed to sense his fear or uncertainty again, otherwise he and Flint would be facing another mutiny on the way. He hated to be crass like them, but if it benefited his image, he was ready to play the part.

“Now, gents, we let Mr. Williams rest here for a moment.” – John proclaimed loudly with a wide grin – “We’ll see if he’d consider signing the goddamn article after he comes to his senses, _at last_.”

Logan whistled at that; Muldoon chuckled and heartily clapped him on the back. Pleased with himself, John turned around just in time to see Flint’s back disappearing into his cabin. A quarter of an hour passed with him interviewing another prospect and Flint still did not show up. Apparently, the captain felt the need to interrupt his wasting of their precious time on fucking, and now strived to waste it lounging in his cabin doing God knows what. That disregard of their endeavor filled John with righteous fury and made him abandon his post.

He knocked just for the sake of appearances and barged into the cabin with pretty annoyed “Captain!”. He was not ready, however, to be greeted by Flint’s shirtless back.

He was standing in front of the full-length mirror, a wet washcloth in his hand, probably cleaning away the residues of his merry night. Flint did not falter, did not change his wide stance, only looked up quizzically, catching John’s eye in the reflection.

“I’ll be joining you shortly, Mr. Silver.” – He said in a soft friendly tone, that made a big contrast with John’s dramatic entrance – “Just give me another minute.”

Silver thought that the sound of his nervous gulp must have been heard ashore. He was heading here fuming with so much to say and now, being confronted with that amiable gaze and a view of freckled skin, he felt at loss of words.

“Busy morning, I see.” He finally mustered, leaning against the doorframe.

“My apologies, handling of the personal matters I’ve told you about took longer than I expected.” Flint said, running the cloth over his armpit and ribs.

“ _Personal matters…_ ” – Silver thought acrimoniously – “ _Matters of getting your cock sucked by a maniac, about as personal as it gets_.”

“Aye, you took your time.” – John said, still watching Flint’s face in the mirror – “I hope now all your _personal matters_ are resolved. That is such an _honor_ to be the only recruiter aboard, but I guess I’m gonna be needing your help anyway.” He would not allow himself any biting remarks with Flint, but his made-up easy tone was not fooling anyone either.

“You’ve handled everything very well so far, I saw resolution of the gunner’s dispute: fully justified and highly effective.” Flint smirked, rinsing out the cloth and going over his neck with it. John felt his cheeks tingle and furiously scratched his nose with a back of his hand to partially obscure his stupid blushing face. 

“Well, you know _how high_ the stakes are. We all must pull our weight around here.” He said, unsuccessfully trying to hide his irritation. He knew that he sounded ridiculously petulant, expecting Flint to snap at him at any given moment.

Flint finally turned around, looking at him with his brow arched. There was some poignant silence, which was as effective as any scathing comment that Flint could have landed on him, and John felt every second of it, squirming inwardly.

“What’s bothering you, John?” – Flint said and huffed quietly upon seeing Silver’s unfocused glare and bitter smirk.

“No, I just…” John quickly retorted, feeling extremely anxious about Flint’s mild reaction to his bullshit. He needed to get out of there.

“Sorry, this morning was grating on me, I’ll give you some much needed privacy now.” He said, apologetically raising his hand and walking off, without looking back.

He behaved like a goddamn idiot, he felt like one too. Ignoring everyone on his way, he disappeared into the cargo hold. He was ashamed of himself: of throwing that half-tantrum, of his foul mood, of that acrid tase in his mouth at the memories of the last night, of feeling the urge to antagonize Flint.

He felt at loss of breath and slumped against the barrels in the corner of the hold. He closed his eyes and irritably run his fingers through his hair. He had rarely been that irrational before. He did not have any right to feel this way towards Flint. Flint did not owe him either affection or explanation of his actions, not once had he expressed any interest towards him.

If John had an opportunity to spend a night with someone as eager for him as Low was for Flint, he would have not only stayed but stayed for longer than the captain had. Those couple of weeks were a nightmare and John knew well enough that one of the best distractions from the nightmares was a warm willing body pressed snugly into his, and the act that made his toes curl and his mind go blissfully blank. He did not have that someone ashore, but Flint did and how could John even judge him for that?

The graphic confirmation, that his captain was indeed of flesh and blood, that he, despite his fearsome reputation, apparently indulged in sex with young attractive men, that he could be so open and reckless at chasing his pleasure, was probably what shook John the most. From now on upon seeing Flint on the bridge, so distant, focused and reserved, he was going to remember catching him in the throws of passion and need. That was the face he really wanted to see on a regular basis.

He could not imagine gathering the courage to approach Flint on that matter, to let Flint see desire or even suggestion written on his face. He had his reasons to be afraid. Naturally, he dreaded his rejection and, subsequently, his aggression or contempt. Perhaps, Flint only liked them blonde and maniacal. At the same time, he feared that captain would give in, and he could not imagine how the dynamic of their relationship would change afterwards. He had never been on an equal footing with the captain, always surrendering to him physically and intellectually. What would happen if he decided to surrender to him intimately as well? Would it be ever possible for him to be himself around Flint or would he be condemned to assume a new persona, just for the sake of sparking captain’s interest?

The fact that he was the one, who made Flint’s rendezvous with Low possible, did not help to calm his nerves either. If only he could keep his goddamned mouth shut, nothing would have happened, they would have safely returned to the ship together. And today, he would not have needed to find a quiet place to _collect himself_ , like some sodden society lady. He chuckled bitterly and pressed his palms over his eyes. Next time when someone from the crew referred to his stew as “goat’s runny shit” again, he could expect himself to collapse into a fit of hysteria and faint.

Silver rose to his feet and resignedly headed outside. As he stepped onto the weather deck, a fake nonchalant smirk was plastered on his face. Flint occupied a place at the table, where he was going over the contents of the articles. He briefly looked up at John and nodded. John, feeling as though a hefty weight had been removed from his chest, sat beside him and observed all the new recruits gathered on the opposite side of the deck. Many of them were acquainted with their crew and mingled amiably. They were all the same: men of no nation, weathered but jovial, easily entertained and eager for stories, pleased to live another day with only a mug of ale in their hands and their own hammock in the hold.

The process went on much better with Flint at his side, there was less unnecessary nonsense and Silver could see how the prospects, that he had already spoken to, reacted to captain’s authority. Fortunately for them, most of the candidates turned out to be reliable and experienced sailors, many were vouched for. The articles were reviewed by Flint and him, before being made public to the whole crew, after the vote and the obligatory ritual of signing up, they were done for the day. As a result, after some excruciating hours the men could finally welcome their new crewmates officially and liquor flowed copiously. They were anchored outside of the bay with no pleasantries of taverns and brothels, the whole day spent on repairs and scrubbing, so John figured that the whole crew had to have some fun at least. If Flint had something against that, he wisely kept his comments to himself..

It was early afternoon and John was exhausted, downing his mug of ale and cradling his aching head, around him was the scene of good-hearted carousing. With gambling aboard prohibited and no women around, they amused themselves with crude overexaggerated stories and drinking. Silver half-heartedly took part in that simple divertissement, half-annoyed as he was by the ruckus of the crew; he wanted nothing more than to retire to the berth and sleep till the Second Coming.

Flint stood at the helm with his back to John, conversing with De Groot. The older sailor gestured to the fore topsail, bringing his hands energetically together and making a flattering motion. Flint shook his head, pointing on the mizzen topsail instead. That back and forth between them went on for a while, and finally captain made some point that apparently had a great effect on De Groot, because the latter opened his mouth and closed it again after a moment, furrowing his brow and casting glances back and forth. John could not help but smirk at that shocked expression on the ship’s master’s face. He was watching this exchange with increased interest, knowing that it must have been some unbearable sailing technicality that got De Groot so riled up, he was an expert at those matters after all. In about a minute of pondering, the older man seemed to be very impressed with Flint’s argument: he grinned, ruffled his shaggy hair and downed his drink in one go. They slapped each others’ shoulders and De Groot set off, still shaking his head in amusement, glancing to the sails above.

 _Of course, he knows everything better._ John would have hated anyone else with such infuriating trait, but with Flint it just felt natural, like being competent in almost every sphere was an integral part of his personality.

Flint had turned around at just the right moment to catch John’s gaze on him. They looked at each other across the crowded deck, which for John felt like an eternity. Then, Flint tilted his head lightly in the direction of his cabin and walked away, disappearing into the dark corridor. John followed quickly, purposefully not paying any attention to the crew.

“Mr. Silver, would you like a drink?” – Flint asked, grabbing a bottle of port from under his desk and presenting it with a shake to John – “It’s been a trying day.”

“I’d like that very much.” John answered, licking his lips, and almost instantly blushing again, he did not intend it to sound like an innuendo. He pretended to adjust a buckle on his boot, letting his hair obscure his face.

“Then take a seat.” Flint filled the glasses with rich ruby liquid that shone prettily in the setting sun.

Silver thanked Flint and took his glass. He tried to appear as calm and relaxed as him. Flint’s eyes on him were neither wary nor inquisitive. John had to remind himself once more that, even though he anticipated it with great horror, Flint had not even once lost his patience with him since they took over this ship.

“Do we drink to the new beginnings, captain?” He asked, smirking, with his glass held high.

“If you insist.” Flint rolled his eyes, but a corner of his mouth twitched.

They sipped the port in silence for another minute. The golden sunbeams illuminated Flint’s chair from behind, creating a halo of bright light around him, the fine hairs on his outstretched arm appearing bright red. Silver sat opposite, squinting lazily and feeling the warmth engulfing him from every direction: the sun, the drink and the captain’s gaze.

“I can understand your displeasure with my absence this morning.” – Flint said, stroking his chin – “It was hypocritical of me to preach to men about the perils of Nassau and then go about my own business there, as if nothing is at stake.”

“Duly noted.” – John nodded, deciding not to revel in this admission and how it made his insides flutter – “I presume, you have successfully evaded the perils of Nassau last night?” He asked innocently.

“ _Almost_ all of them.” Flint answered, watching John intently. Was he suspecting anything? _Or did he just figure everything out?_ John was sure that nobody had seen him yesterday, but his blood turned cold in a heartbeat. He would rather jump out of the window right now than admit to Flint that he was spying on him in a compromising position. However, Flint did not elaborate on the matter and John relaxed, there will be no storm tonight.

“Alright, so we sail off tomorrow midday?” He asked as naturally as he could, paying all his attention to his glass.

“I would like that very much, but there are still matters in need of handling. I gotta visit Eleanor again.” – Flint said, scrunching his nose irritably – “And we also forgot one fucking important thing, Mr. Silver. As soon as we place Mr. Dufresne and his company under Miss Guthrie’s gentle care, we rid ourselves of an accountant. And after that, there will be only one person aboard, who is able to keep the books in check.”

“That’ll be you?” – John interjected quickly, huffing a laugh. _Of course, he can do everything._

“Precisely,” – Flint stated and then smiled roguishly – “But I’ve got no inclination to burden myself with that rather tedious task.”

“Understandable.” – John nodded enthusiastically and snickered – “Then I suggest we venture out to the port first thing in the morning, as any reputable establishment in Nassau is currently bursting at the seams with unemployed accountants, all of them educated, down on their luck, but pathologically honest.” John enjoyed a rich timbre of Flint’s laughter.

“Unfortunately for them, I already have someone in mind.” – Flint said, his eyes still sparkling with mirth – “I intend to recruit Mr. Scott.”

“ _The_ Mr. Scott?!” – John arched his brow – “Isn’t he one of Hornigold’s men now?”

“You know how I told you that Eleanor is too practical to be loyal? I believe that many of the most admirable traits of her character had been adopted from Mr. Scott himself. He is the man of reason. We lay our cards out – he is going to accept our offer. His organizational expertise is invaluable to us. Moreover, I also believe him to have his own agenda. And for such luxury a man needs formidable wealth.”

“When you put it like that…” – John tilted his head to the side, feeling comfortable in Flint’s company again – “Do you want me to accompany you?”

“If you are not otherwise engaged.” Flint shrugged, smirking into his glass.

***

The word came from ashore first thing in the morning, a cordial invitation from Hornigold for captain Flint. They were arranging a strategy meeting on the beach that required his expertise. John had been sitting in the galley for a while, listening to Randall’s gossips and cheerfully devouring sweetsops, one after another. When Flint appeared on the steps and swiftly beckoned him outside, he immediately got up, wished Randall best of luck with that soup of his, and followed the captain.

“What do you think Hornigold is gonna ask from you now?” Silver asked, as they were rowing toward the shore.

“Firepower, men, my fucking ship, everything. He _is_ desperate and annoyingly entitled in equal measure.” Flint said abruptly, giving John a meaningful look. It appeared that today he was not in a mood for any foolishness.

“Your rivalry with captain Vane is well-known, Hornigold will try to rile you up against him again,” – Silver said, watching Flint over his shoulder – “Something-something about you never being able to return to Nassau, because there _will be no Nassau_ with the mad man in that fort.”

“I’m aware of the things he’d say to urge me to save his sorry arse from an undignified retirement in the beach tent.” – Flint replied, sneering at the looming shoreline – “As to Vane – he doesn’t have a clue how to use that decrepit landmark to his advantage. He is a shipless pirate captain, growing bored in that fort just like the men before him, and he poses no threat to us now.”

John only nodded and wished for Flint to be right. He also wondered if tonight Flint was going to return to the ship with him when they were done here or if he had planned another reunion with Low. That familiar uneasy feeling sipped into his chest and stomach again. They reached Hornigold’s camp, which was suffering from increasingly low morale. Men were idly chatting in small groups; their overall mood could be only described as leisurely mutinous.

Upon reaching the captain’s tent, Flint stopped him with his hand on John’s forearm, bringing him closer.

“All that they have and all that they will promise us have no value to us. We stand in this together, John.” – he whispered into his ear, as involuntary shudder went through John’s body – “When we come inside, wait for about five minutes and then go out to the beach – see what is the mood over there, and afterwards come back and discreetly report it to me. I want to create an illusion that we’re plotting something on our own.”

“No need to reveal the exact day of our departure either.” Silver said, letting his face appear calm and neutral.

Hornigold greeted them with a grimace, wearing the same clothes and splashing wine from the bottle in his unsteady hand. Mr. Scott was sitting beside him, visibly unimpressed with the whole venture. Flint sat on a chair opposite them, while Silver leaned on a beam behind him, languidly toying with his necklace and looking around. Hornigold rambled about the state of his affair with Guthrie, that was supposed to join them shortly. After designated five minutes John happily left without a word.

He walked along the beach line, enjoying that rare lazy stroll in a warm breeze. Simultaneously he was watching the colorful crowd of fishers, vendors and pirates, spotting a gathering under one of the modest tents. He approached a queue of gawkers, addressing a man standing closest to him.

“Hello, friend,” – John said with an easy smile – “What’s to hear about all that business at the fort…” – He squinted in the sun, striving to see what was so interesting in that tent – “The fuck is going on in there?”

“Pulled a man outta water. Up by the north point.” – The man answered, turning his head and looking John up and down – “That’s lucky! We were just about to send a word for one of you.”

“Excuse me?” Silver furrowed his brow.

“You’re a _Walrus_ man, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, what are you talking about?”

“He’s one of yours.”

John’s face got all scrunched up, as he was making his way through the small crowd. There on a meager bedding, his clothes in tatters, laid very alive Billy Bones. Shaking his head in disbelief, Silver momentarily felt relieved. A mere second after that, his breath hitched as he realized what a miraculous return of the beloved bosun could mean for the crew. _Oh, that was bad._


	10. Chapter 10

_“He can’t be on the ship right now, right?_ _We have to hold the order with both hands.”_ – Silver reasoned with himself – “ _And Billy will, understandably, have some feeling about the events of this past week…”_

John cast his eye on unconscious Billy, who had been dropped here by a couple of sympathetic onlookers. It was easy enough to find an empty hut on the outskirts of the beach, its discreet owner disappearing for a day.

_“If those feelings were expressed right now,”_ – He continued his inner monologue – _“It could spoil whatever chances we have to retrieve the gold. Billy is popular not only in our crew, but his word can also sway even our newest members.”_

“This is so fucked.” John said out loud, peering down on bosun’s mighty body. It looked like he had been through hell.

Billy suddenly coughed and opened his bleary eyes. “Where is this?” He croaked weakly; his gaze was unfocused.

“It’s alright, you made it home.” John said reassuringly.

“Get Gates…” Billy uttered, before falling unconscious again.

“I wish I fucking could.” John whispered under his breath and smeared some oil on Billy’s weathered face, those cracks must have hurt something awful. He went outside, closing the door securely, it was reckless to leave Bones alone there, but he had to return to Hornigold’s meeting.

“An ultimatum _from you_ will be enough!” – Hornigold was yelling, as John entered the tent – “What alternative do we have?! Sure, there will be blood spilled on that hill, but-”

“It is absolutely insane to blow up that fort.” Miss Guthrie interrupted him, her face was stern and determined.

“And once again I am asking what alternative do we have?! _Jesus Christ!_ ” – the old privateer banged his fist on the table – “That heathen needs to be thrown out of there somehow! It is in everyone’s best interest that I regain control over the bay!” His red face was twitching with fury – “And do not forget about the men and resources I’ve given you…”

“With about 70 men in that fort, their position is still too advantageous, casualties will number threescore on our side. And I’ve already assured you, your share will be, of course, included in our final calculations.” Flint said, lazily stroking the rings on his fingers, and beckoned John closer with the tilt of his head.

“What took so long?” He whispered, eyeing the renewed discussion between Hornigold and Guthrie.

“Unexpected tidings.” – John murmured quietly – “Almost done here?”

“Haven’t had a chance to have a tete-a-tete with Mr. Scott yet.” Flint said, scrunching his nose again at the loud exchange nearby.

“You may want to return a bit later. I’ve encountered something important.” John said, anxiously looking Flint in the eye.

He nodded and immediately stood up. “I’d have to leave you for a while: there is some news from the beach.”

They left their annoyed company and walked purposefully few dozen steps along the shore.

“Enough time wasted. Did you really find something out?” Flint said, leisurely stretching his neck and arms.

“They’ve found Billy.” – Silver said, watching Flint’s face turn pale – “I brought him to a shack nearby, let’s go.” John saw that Flint wanted to ask him something, but instead he only quickened his pace at Silver’s side.

Suddenly Flint stopped dead in his tracks, as he spotted a brown-haired woman in a light gray dress, who was quickly approaching him through the crowd. Her attractive face was filled with worry, she stopped, nervously clutching her parcel bag, waiting for Flint to come over.

“Give me a minute.” The captain said to him curtly. John made a conscious decision to move a bit closer to them, where he was still able to overhear their short dialogue.

“What are you doing here?” Flint asked.

“I need to speak with you alone.” – She said in a surprisingly even tone – ““I have come upon some very important information.” She gave him a meaningful look and Flint nodded without any hesitation.

 _“That must be famous Mrs. Barlow.”_ John thought, registering every visible detail of that woman’s figure. She did not look like a sea witch. She was beautiful, refined and full of poise. Her influence on the captain was undeniable. John could not understand how it made him feel. There was a dull ache in his chest, as he watched that air of protectiveness enveloping Flint, that could only indicate, that this woman was very dear to him. It was purposeless to compete with her. However, there was no violent anger like he felt towards Ned Low.

“John, I have urgent matters to handle, I’ll be joining you as soon as I can. Keep an eye on Billy.” Flint said, swiftly clapping John’s shoulder and disappearing with the woman in the direction of the town square.

***

In that tiny hut there was nothing else to keep an eye on, apart from Billy. He was still in his half-unconscious state, his breath somewhat strained. John had been plying him with tiny portions of water for the last half an hour.

Flint barged into the hut so rapidly and unexpectedly, that John almost yelped.

“Bloody hell, you’ve scared the shit outta me!” Silver said exasperatedly.

“Beg your pardon.” – Flint murmured and quickly sank down on his knees near Billy’s futon. He observed him closely, placing his hand on bosun’s forehead with surprising tenderness, that did not escape Silver. He did not think that they were particularly close, and he wondered, if there was something to the captain and bosun’s relationship that everybody else was unaware about.

“How’s he?” Flint finally addressed him with a glance over his shoulder.

“Obviously been through a lot, tortured, he’d been half-asleep for the last hour. He was pulled outta water by the north point, that’s at least what the witnesses say, no one knows how he got up there.” John replied with a shrug.

“He said anything?”

“He asked for Gates.” – Silver said, peering attentively into captain’s face and catching his grimace – “What should we tell him, when he wakes up?”

Flint looked at him, his discomfort apparent. “Billy Bones is very important to us, not only for his sailing expertise and fighting ability. He is smart, proved his loyalty times over _and_ he is loved by the crew.” – A wrinkle appeared between captain’s brows and he fiddled with his rings – “That’s why I’d ask you, John…to make sure, that he would be presented with the _official_ version of events.”

“You really care about what _he_ thinks of you? And what about half of the crew who just _know_ what happened?” – Silver asked almost involuntarily – “You know, he’s not a fool, he may not buy any of this.”

“I know that. And yes, of course I bloody care what he thinks of me.” Flint replied, his tone slightly irritated.

“Did you really try to help him that night?” – John asked suddenly, watching Billy’s long limbs twitching, apparently from having a nightmare.

“That night was hellish. I did what I could to help him, but he slipped…and fell.” – Flint said, carefully choosing his words – “I did not wish Billy Bones dead, and I wouldn’t now. Make sure to include those facts in _your_ official version.” He concluded sternly.

John rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling petulance rising in his chest. He was ready to counter Flint’s words with something that he would regret afterwards, but Flint beat him to it. 

“I’m only asking _you_ , because you are the only one who can make it possible.” – There was that sincerity in Flint’s voice that John got addicted to recently – “No one will benefit from our bosun being doubtful either of me or of our whole endeavor, and _we need_ _him_ , you know we do.” He tilted his head to the side, catching John’s glance shortly.

“I understand. And I’m gonna try.” John finally answered, it hardly mattered now how exactly Mr. Gates met his untimely end, they had to focus on the bigger picture.

However, the suspicion about Billy and Flint, that tenderness in captain’s touch did somewhat spoil Silver’s mood. He was becoming paranoid.

“What was that urgent matter of yours about?” He asked seriously, as if challenging Flint to dare brushing him off, denying him an honest answer, after John had just agreed to cover up for him.

“Mrs. Barlow wished to inform me about a high-profile hostage, intended to be ransomed.” – Flint said, without batting an eye – “Her priest is a frequent visitor of a local hospital, this morning he had told her about one peculiar patient, who claims, that his previous employer is currently holding a girl hostage. This girl is Abigail Ashe, the only daughter of the governor of Carolina, Peter Ashe.”

“And that previous employer?”

“Captain Ned Low.”

John carefully breathed out, averting his eyes, afraid that Flint would be able to read something there.

“And why would you care?” He uttered inquisitively.

“Because Lord Peter Ashe and I know each other. Mrs. Barlow wanted to persuade me to remove the girl, alive and unharmed, from captain’s Low care and return her to her father myself.”

“She can’t be serious!” – John gasped, staring at Flint in disbelief – “Why would you do that?! Is she not aware of the Spanish gold currently lying around on that fucking beach?!”

“I’ve told her _just that_.” – Flint said, shaking his head – “She was adamant that after returning Lord Ashe his only child, he could be persuaded to vouch for…the initial plan for Nassau. And that he is going to help us achieve it. You know, self-governed and self-efficient paradise, pardons…” Flint’s voice had not revealed his emotion half as good as his pained face had.

“You’re not seriously considering it, though, are you?” Silver pressed on, his voice unconsciously getting louder.

“I am not-”

“-Because it’s one of the most fucking _ludicrous_ things I’ve ever heard in my life.” - John interrupted him energetically, feeling more riled up – “Bloody death sentence. How naïve and tired of living should a poor prick be to-”

“ _I know that_.” – Flint proclaimed meaningfully, stressing every word – “The governor has been hanging men left and right recently, for mere possession of pirated goods.” – He furrowed his brow – “There is no way of negotiating with him, even with his daughter aboard. I’ve got no illusions about that, believe me.”

“Good.” – John concluded lamely, surprised with Flint’s compliance – “And what about captain Low?” John asked it because he was well aware, that there must be absolutely nothing pleasant in being held hostage by someone who beheaded people for a stunt.

“I assured Mrs. Barlow of my intention to have _at least_ one-on-one with captain Low and motivate him to show the girl mercy.” – John had to ignore the way Flint’s admission made him feel – “Though, it must be done today. We should be underway tomorrow noon.” – Flint concluded, scratching his jaw absentmindedly – “Stay with Billy for now, bring him up to speed, and then haul him onboard. In the meantime, I am to meet with Mr. Scott and, subsequently, with captain Low.”

“Should we expect you to return onboard _tonight_?” John asked, not worrying much about how that question might sound, he only needed to know.

“Naturally.” Flint said, apparently somewhat puzzled by John’s inquiry. He got up on his feet and nodded Silver farewell, leaving him alone with the sleeping bosun.

***

Billy came to his senses after a couple of hours. He was enormously surprised by John’s company and, just as Flint had instructed, Silver brought Billy up to speed. Bones took the news about Gates’ passing well enough. No tears, no cursing, no fits of anger. John weaved that tale seamlessly: there was no witnesses, apart from himself, and no body. Some of them _believed_ that Flint had killed Gates, but no one could prove it. John saw the skepticism right there in Billy’s furrowed brow and in strict line of his mouth. After Silver brought up the mutiny, that skepticism transformed into some unreadable expression, Billy going silent for some time. John ventured out for food, allowing Mr. Bones to collect his thoughts in privacy.

He seemed fine when John returned with generous supplies and laid them near his bedding. To their surprise, they conversed freely and amiably, while sharing their meal of smoked fish, bread, cheese and plentiful of fruits. Bones was shoveling food in his mouth like he had been starved for centuries, from time to time knocking back tiny portions of ale and humming in delight.

“Dr. Howell would probably advise you to take it easy right now.” John commented, watching Billy with a cheeky grin.

“Thank God he’s not here.” Billy said dismissively.

“They’re all gonna be ecstatic to see you back.” John said with a chuckle.

“What about the captain?” The bosun asked quickly, staring Silver down with his pale eyes, so accentuated by the tender burned skin of his face.

“Why, do you think he won’t be happy to see you alive and well?” John asked gingerly, tearing up a piece of bread.

“I doubted him, was constantly bringing up that letter I’ve found.” – Bones started chewing again, still watching John intently – “You think he forgot about it?”

“Frankly, I think now it makes absolutely no fucking difference.” – Silver said casually – “We are _onto_ that gold, Billy, it’s all there - just wait till you see it. And Flint is going to get us there. _He_ ordered me to haul you onboard as soon as you regain consciousness.”

Billy nodded and focused on his meal again, giving John an opportunity to observe him once more. The young man was not to be underestimated. If Silver and he were at odds, it would make quartermaster’s job tenfold harder. Was he planning to stab him, _them_ , in the back?

“Do you remember what happened that night? On the bow?” John asked carefully.

“I remember falling down…” – Billy said lazily, and then added, catching John’s eye – “I don’t remember being pushed, if that’s what you’re asking.” He curled his lip and finished the rest of his meal. John was not entirely sure where Billy’s loyalties truly lay, but he went with his gut, considering him, at least temporarily, a solid ally.

Mere moments later the shack’s door opened, and they were greeted by Mr. Scott, who was wearing his usual impenetrable expression.

“Mr. Scott, a pleasant surprise!” John said with a smirk. Obviously, Flint had laid his cards out and Mr. Scott must have concluded, that he had the best possible hand.

“Gentlemen, I’ve accepted captain’s Flint offer to join your crew as your accountant. I got all my affairs ashore in order and we are to leave for a ship together at once.” – Mr. Scott said, looking them both up and down, and then added with a smile – “Captain’s order.”

***

To say that the crew was ecstatic about Billy’s return was to say nothing. They were already getting restless and bored, which was not great for Flint’s resolution to let no one else ashore. The ship and her cannons were sparkling, neatness of the decks could put the Royal Navy to shame. The men would be suspected to start quarrelling and messing with each other for fun in the nearest future.

The miraculous return was even better for the morale now. Not only was it a legitimate reason to get drunk. It also made crew’s attention to focus on the fresh yarn they all were going to spin from now on about the Unsinkable Billy Bones, coming up with ridiculous stories before Billy himself had even a chance to utter a word about his recent adventures. Great distraction from their speculations about captain’s alleged betrayal and murder of Gates, as far as Silver was concerned.

Billy was sitting on the weather deck, surrounded by cheering men, dangling his bare feet from either side of a tall barrel. His hair became so light, almost white in the setting sun. He was eating and drinking again, being constantly plied with food and rum by his crew. “ _Must be all that rude health of his.”_ – John thought to himself, watching Billy smile happily at Logan and Muldoon, who were retelling him something agitatedly, constantly interrupting each other. That last maneuver of evading certain death was about to bring Bones even more respect and notoriety throughout other crews, all across the Caribbean, as every sailor loved a good story of mortal danger and incredible escape and celebrated any of his colleagues who lived to tell such tale.

After a while they all settled down enough to be able to listen to Billy.

“The first thing I remember is being in a hold of that ship, shackled.” – He said, turning his gaze all around their circle – “A man came in, the _Scarborough’s_ captain. And he just said one thing, he said…”

The pause that he did was somewhat too dramatic to John’s liking. “ _But whatever works for him…”_ John thought, amusing himself further, of course Billy knew the tricks of the trade: he’d been sailing with Flint for years, one smart enough to see through captain’s storytelling could not hope for a better teacher.

“Yesterday you were a free man… Today you are a thief, condemned to die.” – Billy proceeded meaningfully – “I saw a garrison on Harbour Isle: two hundred men, armory, barracks. They were not _passing through_.” – It elicited some murmur among the men – “The Navy is, this moment, fully encamped, forty miles away from where you stand.”

The men exchanged worried looks, the news was clearly having intended impact.

“Eventually, the men, who guarded me, got careless, let me get too close…” Billy continued, as if not noticing crew’s concern.

“-Billy, we’re all relieved beyond words that you’re here.” – Dufresne interrupted him, looking at him sympathetically – “But the question on all of our minds in this moment is – How did you end up in the water in the first place?” – He said, addressing everyone in the circle as well – “Mr. Gates assumed, I assumed, _we’re all_ assumed, that the captain had a hand in your fall to silence your opposition to him.”

Warily, John watched how even the new members of their crew got tenser after that. That was a serious accusation, the one that sent other captains, who were found guilty of such deed, overboard without common decency of a sack.

“Do you remember what happened at the bow of the _Walrus_ that night?” Dufresne asked, watching Billy’s face intently. From there, it all depended on Billy and John held his breath.

“I remember the storm, how fucking loud that was…” – Billy said pensively, as if reliving that moment – “I remember someone yelling from behind… and I remember a hand…” – Bones furrowed his brow – “The hand grasping me, keeping me dangling above the depths, and me, holding onto it, but then slipping… Captain Flint tried to save me that night.” He concluded and took a sip of his rum.

“ _Perfect._ ” John thought, looking around and seeing puzzled and pensive faces all around, that was a huge win for them and apparent obliteration of Dufresne’s opposition. Billy looked at him with knowing eyes and smirked momentarily.

However, the effect had not been as great if it were not for Flint’s wonderfully timely arrival. He approached their circle and the men made way for him. All eyes were focused on Flint, striding towards the Billy, who threw his mug on the floor and was slowly getting on his feet. However, John has got his attention primarily on Bones. After one look at the captain John concluded, that it was the same well-hidden tenderness under Flint’s composed expression, that he’d spotted in the shack today. That was why Billy Bones’ reaction was, at that moment, far more interesting to John.

Billy was standing up and waiting for the captain to approach him. His lips were parted, eyes wide-open and focused entirely on Flint. There was a pulsing vein on the side of Billy’s mighty neck as he swallowed, revealing his agitation. The way they were peering into each other’s eyes was ambiguous, they neither smiled nor uttered a word. When Flint was a mere step away from the bosun, he held his hand out and Bones grabbed it, not breaking an eye contact. A couple of seconds passed, and Flint was pulling Billy into his tight embrace, that must have felt damn good, judging by the way Billy clutched at the back of captain’s shirt and buried his face in the crook of Flint’s neck, closing his eyes.

“ _Certainly didn’t realize they were that close._ ” – John thought bitterly, feeling as if the floor was starting to crumble from under his feet – “ _The fact that you want to fuck him does not mean that everyone else does as well_.” – He tried to reason with himself, still watching that unusually long embrace – “ _But why wouldn’t they? Billy’s young and handsome, it is probably…_ ”

Still in captain’s arms, Billy caught John’s gaze and did not avert his eyes. There was again that cryptic expression on his face, that bothered Silver. When they finally broke apart and stepped away from each other, John was already on his way to the galley to grab another bottle.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, it's gonna be a long time before this fic is over and I'm having a lot of fun writing it. They are all tough boys and can endure everything I throw at them.

John was gently swaying in his hammock with his legs sprawled widely, half-empty bottle of rum in his hand. His original plan was to tire himself with drink enough to be able to fall asleep and ease off. All specter of emotions that he felt over the last week, from the thrilling high of his pleasant evenings of bonding with the captain to that venomous agitation and pathetic despair of his jealousy, was exhausting and it was driving him mad.

The only thing he had been grateful about was that his emotional turmoil did not spoil his progress of winning over the crew and keeping his new duties under control. The men were disappointed of him leaving the celebration of Billy’s return: many had urged him to stay a bit longer and drink some more, but John was steadfast, claiming that his head ached something terrible from all their ridiculousness. On the way to the berth, he had been given plenty of friendly shoves and claps on the shoulders, that pleased him momentarily, but did not manage to ease his mind.

He did not want to analyze his feelings too much, preferring to keep it simple for the sake of his own sanity. And it was simple: Flint’s physical attributes, his persona and his authority were fascinating enough for John to become attracted to him. He had had such obsessions before, that was nothing new. As for that possessive thoughts of Flint, suspicions, and jealousy… “ _I’ve always been greedy._ ” John thought, languidly stretching his limbs. Of course, he wanted to be a single focus of Flint’s undivided attention, who would not want such thing from the person they desired?

In order to distract himself, he picked up ‘ _El Perro del Hortelano_ ’ Flint left on the crate. After an hour of diligent reading, the bottle was nearly empty, and John was even more irritated than before.

“ _I’m ‘playing the gardener’s dog’,”_ – John thought to himself, shaking his head drunkenly – “ _Good Lord, I’m the fucking dog._ ” He closed the tome with a smack: of all the fucking books on that ship, he had to pick up this one. He swore to himself resolutely to finish with that foolishness once and for all. He won’t be manipulated by his irrational feelings anymore, he had to play his cards right, get the gold and get the hell out. Whatever Flint was doing behind the closed doors was of no concern to him. His true loyalty, unlike dog’s, was not easy to gain.

***

_Tortuga, 1711_

James had not been that relaxed in months, his body was pleasantly warm, fresh bedding felt so good against his bare skin, and he stretched with a satisfied groan. That elicited a quiet huff from a man lying beside him, who raised his head and left a trail of lazy kisses along his chest.

“You slept fine?” The man murmured, stroking James’ stomach with his palm.

James hummed and opened his eyes to observe Ned with his leg over Flint’s lap. He then reached around with his arm, holding younger man’s body even closer. Now it was Ned’s turn to hum in delight.

“How you feelin’?” Flint asked, burying his fingers in Low’s fair hair.

“Sore.” – He answered with a cocky grin and proceeded with those lingering kisses, now paying attention to James’ nipples and abdomen – “But then I always am, after spending time with you.”

Flint grinned lazily at him. “I’m only rough when you ask me to.” He teased, stroking Ned’s scalp in circular motion.

“And I am sore in the most _delectable_ way.” – Low proclaimed, nuzzling around Flint’s crotch – “You know, I really _could_ get used to it.”

“Sometimes less is more.” – Flint said easily, unwilling to discuss a subject Ned had brought up yesterday. He could not accept him in his crew, partly because of the shared intimacy: never a good idea to mix business with pleasure, but because of that bloody dark side of Ned, that he had spotted in him instantly. He was unpredictable and wild, and those were not fitting traits for any member of his relatively disciplined crew, especially for a member who would expect regular fucking from him. Things could get ugly very fast and Flint was not inclined to take such risk.

“If you’re worried about keeping our business here secret…” Ned started, but James interrupted him by rolling them both over, so that it was Ned who was now lying on his back, Flint propped on his elbows above him.

“I’m mostly worried about keeping _you_ under control.” – He said with a smirk, leaning down to bite his nipple – “And I’m also not sure that I’d be able to run the ship with _you_ strolling around…” – He swirled his tongue around the bitten skin, hearing Ned’s moaning under him – “Distracting me…” – He shifted lower, nipping at the taut abdomen – “Giving me ideas…”

This time James was rewarded with an impatient grunt and nudge of the hips.

“I’m just never fucking sure when will be the next time I see you.” – Ned huffed out with slight irritation – “Four nights in two years-” He stuttered and groaned loudly, as Flint descended on him, taking him into his mouth. And then they did not talk for a good long while.

***

John was woken up by Muldoon early in the morning. The captain sent for him.

“Aye, comin’,” – He said, feeling groggy and queasy – “ _Fucking hell!_ ” He whispered, cradling his aching head, as he sat up.

“Rough time, eh?” – Muldoon eyed him with sympathy and smiled – “We’re all still a bit wasted after last night.”

“Did Billy have as much fun as you lot?” John asked weakly with a crooked smile.

“Aye, but he’s already waiting for you in the captain’s cabin.” The gunner gestured behind his shoulder and walked off to his hammock.

John was instantly fully awake and sober. So much for his resolution to stay unaffected. He promptly wiped his body with a soapy cloth, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and put on a fresh shirt, leaving the top unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. He raked his fingers through his hair, smoothing the curls to the side, hoping to look good enough to face those two. Had Billy spent the night by Flint? He picked up a sweetsop on his way, taking a bite of it as he strolled into the cabin, which made his demeanor seem a bit more nonchalant.

“Mr. Silver, kind of you to join us.” Flint said, momentarily looking up from a letter he was writing. There he was, collected and calm as always. In the chair opposite him sat Billy, looking over his shoulder at John and giving him a nod. They both looked clean and fresh, and John was glad that he himself had made an effort.

“Good morning.” John said cheerfully and sat down, putting his elbow on the back of his chair.

“Care to inquire about our plans for the day?” – Flint asked, laying the letter aside, and looking at John with an easy grin, that did make John’s ghastly morning somewhat better.

He returned the smile almost involuntarily and raised his hands in an overly apologetic way, still chewing. “Captain, _I’m all ears_!” He proclaimed and winked, enjoying Flint’s quiet chuckle. He then looked over to Billy, who, with a twitch of a brow, was grinning lazily at him.

“We have a new crew to manage. You both know what mutiny or another major fuck-up can mean for our mission. The Spanish aide will arrive in a week or two.” – Flint turned his serious gaze from one to the other – “We must retrieve the gold before that happens, one smooth run is pivotal for our success. We need the men to be focused, we need them to stand together as one, we need them fraternizing and we need them to be mean, because, at the moment, our enemy is every other fucking ship in the ocean. It is your duty as quartermaster and bosun to ensure exactly that. I want you to work together on it.” He looked them over sternly.

John and Billy nodded in unison, both wondering how it would go.

“Mr. Scott is going to be using this cabin to start going over the new articles: in light of recent events, we’ve got some redistribution of shares to plan.” – He said, looking at Billy warmly and relaxing back on his chair – “I want you both to oversee his task. After that, do your thing with the crew.”

“I’ve got something in mind for Dufresne and anyone who’d follow him.” – Billy said, flashing his white teeth – “’S gonna be good, somewhat theatrical.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow at noon. Their expulsion is planned, at the very latest at dawn, they will be escorted down to Guthrie’s estate.”

“What’s with all that bunch on the beach?” John asked, cocking his head to the side.

“They can go fuck themselves.” Flint answered, curling his moustache, his tone was careless. They grinned at each other.

“How did it go, with the hostage girl?” John finally asked after they had discussed other details of their upcoming departure.

“Apparently, captain Low was enjoying the views of the interior whole evening. Bet, that’s where he keeps the girl, it would be reckless to leave her aboard _Fancy_. He’s returning today, so I’m going to pay him a visit.” Flint gave his injured shoulder a light squeeze and grimaced.

“Should you be going alone then?” Billy asked, looking concerned. Apparently, Billy was unaware of Flint’s relationship with Low.

“It’s _better_ I go alone.”

“Captain, but what about the perils of Nassau?” John could not help mentioning.

“Yeah, at least take Joji and Joshua with you.” Billy added, staring the captain down.

“I’ll manage, gentlemen,” – Flint said, standing up and grabbing his weapons and the letter from the table – “I am truly touched by your concern.” – He added sarcastically, heading out of the cabin.

***

_Barbados, 1712_

“What a pleasure to meet you again, captain, and so soon at that! Lucky me!” Ned Low panted out with a laugh, facing the wall. He was being roughly pushed into it by Flint, who was fiddling with their pants with one hand.

“ _Shut up_ …” Flint growled, sinking his teeth into Ned’s neck, eliciting loud gasp from the younger man.

“You gonna do it again if I keep talking?” Low asked, pushing himself back against Flint’s hard body. He then immediately received another bite to the other side of his neck and his breath hitched.

“Oh, fuck… _Missed that_.” – He managed to say, looking back, that wide devilish smirk, which made Flint’s blood boil, on his face – “And then maybe you tell me again why the fuck we can’t sail together…”

“I see you are pretty chatty today. Do you want me to break skin?” Flint said quietly in his ear, while roughly cupping Ned’s crotch with his free hand.

“Please, yeah!” – Ned moaned, straining to stay in place, while Flint bit hard into his flesh. He cried out, as blood started flowing out of the bite, and then growled, closing his eyes.

Flint twisted him in his grasp, nearing his bloody mouth to Ned’s. The younger man lunged forward, sucking James’ bottom lip into his mouth, and moaning at the taste. They both were panting, bestially grinding their lower bodies together.

“So, how was your recent hunt, anyway?” Ned asked breathlessly, looking Flint in the eye with mad eagerness. He choked on his laugh, when he felt Flint’s teeth sinking deep into his skin once more.

***

After Flint had left the cabin, John looked over at Billy with his brow arched. Billy did not seem that happy either.

“I don’t like that plan.” John said, tilting his head and watching the frowning bosun.

“I think I better follow him to watch out.” He proclaimed, looking resolute.

“You gotta be careful, the order was pretty clear-” John started.

“We are _not_ under attack now, and such decision, due to its sheer recklessness, actually must be put to a vote. I’ll be doing the captain a favor by keeping my mouth shut and going after him alone.” Billy cut him off sternly and raised his chin lightly, as if daring John to challenge him.

“By any means, do as you please.” – John said with an easy smile, ruffling his hair – “I’m just saying that Flint won’t be happy if he _sees_ you, so don’t get spotted.”

“I won’t.” Billy replied, heading out of the cabin. John watched his determined stride with a mixed feeling but ultimately decided to let Bones go. The bosun was in for a treat.

***

Silver had been conversing with the crew on the weather deck when Billy returned, looking feverish and angry. Just one look at him confirmed what John had suspected to be true: Billy was indeed very apt in being sneaky and managed to repeat Silver’s own stunt and learn about nature of Flint and Low’s relationship; and it was apparent that Bones had his own feelings about the whole situation. And his reaction did not differ much from John’s. 

He was also surprised at how early Billy had returned: it was only midday. Silver followed him all the way down to the lower storage, Bones not seeming bothered by it. Reaching the row of crates, Billy took a new bottle of rum and took a hefty swig. Silver leaned on a beam and regarded the man with curious gaze.

“So, how did it go?” John asked finally, but the bosun did not rush to fill the silence. Instead, he was watching Silver with his bright eyes very intently, downing another portion of rum. John felt somewhat uneasy for the moment and wondered if Billy was quite alright in the head after the tortures of the Navy. They looked each other in the eye: John cautiously and Billy calculating. Finally, Bones corked the bottle and put it aside.

“You think that you’re able to fool anybody here, but you’re not.” – He said, looking at him earnestly, without sounding taunting – “In fact, John Silver, you are painfully transparent at times. I can see through you, _as well as the captain_.” – Billy stepped closer to him, peering down his face, towering over him like some mythical shadowy creature – “I can see how the men could’ve been taken in by you, with what they’ve been through. But know this – had _I_ been here, I doubt it would have been so easy for you.”

“And you’re one perceptive chap, Billy! Pray tell where this conversation is heading?” John replied, feeling a bit defensive, but not showing it, making his tone easy.

“I _am_ perceptive, actually. I’ve sailed with Flint for many years, I practically grew up with the crew and learned a lot about the inner workings of the likes of us.” – Billy paused, bitter smirk curling his lip – “You’re so obviously hard for Flint, it’s almost obscene. I’ve noticed that straight away, I wonder how the men had not started to talk yet.”

John frowned and decided not to insult them both by playing dumb, he only listened closely, staring at Billy unblinking. “ _That fucker…_ ” – Silver thought – “ _Just has to be so blunt._ ”

“I was watching him in the tavern for two hours, until a reply to his letter came back. After a while Low popped up and I _knew_ straight away what the fuck been going on between them and why it was better for him to go alone.” – Billy sounded calm, but his inner battle to remain that way was apparent to John – “I knew that look on Low’s face, because I’ve seen it on our own quartermaster just this morning.”

“Ain’t it, by chance, the same looks you’ve been casting Flint since your return, Billy?” John said calmly, successfully remaining relaxed against the crate, despite the desperate urge to flee this conversation.

Billy scoffed, looking at him with his strange expression. “You don’t know shit, do you?”

Silver felt at loss of words, and he did not like at all the course this exchange took.

“I’ve returned here to fulfill my duties; it was clear that the captain did not require any help.” Billy said, moving to the stairs.

“ _What_ don’t I know, Billy?” – Silver asked quickly, ignoring Billy’s last admission.

The bosun turned around on the steps and grinned at him, albeit with that distant look in his eyes. “If you’re really curious: ask Flint yourself.”

***

Billy’s plan for identifying untrustworthy men was brilliant, John had to give him that. It was late evening and the whole crew gathered on the upper gun deck, as they were witnessing Billy’s powerful performance.

“Have you ever been tortured?” He asked Dufresne, who, with eight of his men, was standing opposite him, looking very much like cornered animals. As Billy explained to the crew, when they all got called up outside to surround that group, those conspirators were all to meet up after dark to wait for Flint’s arrival. They were planning to subdue him and bring him to captain Hume of _Scarborough_ in exchange for pardons, at the same time revealing the location of the _Urca_ gold to another crew and using the ensued panic after captain’s disappearance to their advantage, get ahead of them on their hunt. John was impressed by Dufresne: it was a solid plan, if only it had worked out for them. Luck was not on their side tonight.

“What?” Dufresne stuttered, the look of horror on his pale face.

“Suffered pain applied by men, who saw you as less than a man?” – Billy spoke clearly, with sternly furrowed brow – “Saw you as an _animal_?”

John observed the scene, standing beside his men and practically sensing their collective mood switching at Billy’s will, becoming more somber and tense.

“’Cause it isn’t actually the pain they are inflicting, that’s the most frightening part of it. It isn’t fear of future pain.” – Billy flashed a bitter smirk – “It’s the knowledge, that even when the pain stops, even if they were to let you go, that they’ve _changed_ you.” – His eyes became cloudy for a split second, as if he had been involuntarily cast back to those agonizing memories – “That pain, that fear, that despair…has made you _someone else_ …someone you barely recognize. Against your will.” – His voice was clear, the only sound on the whole deck full of men hanging on his every word – “I said what I had to say to get out of that place, but I have no intention of honoring their offer.” There came a quiet appreciative murmur from the crewmembers.

“Ten pardons!” – Billy continued, pausing for a moment, shaking his head – “I would fight to the death to ensure _not a single one_ of my brothers _ever_ has to face what _I_ faced.” – He looked at Dufresne with resentment – “Now, if there’s a man on this crew that feels differently, that feels as though he’d be willing to accept another brother suffering that fate, so that _he_ might avoid it: then that’s a man I need to remove from my crew.” – Billy uttered seriously, supported by crew’s mood – “Right now, Mr. Dufresne here has identified you men as the most likely to present such a problem. Was he right?”

“Don’t appreciate being fucked with, Billy!” – Bridges stepped out from the group behind Dufresne – “If you ain’t got the balls to stand up to Flint, _maybe you_ …” Billy did not allow him to finish his sentence, effectively silencing the massive man with his hardened fists. He beat him until Bridges was lying flat on the floor, gasping for air. John was watching that scene with grim satisfaction, as he had dreamt about it for so long.

“But you were not _only_ planning to deliver the captain to the authorities, dishonoring your oath. Your betrayal of _this crew_ aboard _this ship_ is even more abhorrent.” – Billy’s breath was somewhat strained from exertion, but his voice thundered around the deck – “You agreed to fuck _all of us_ over and rob us all of our _futures_.” That elicited a whole range of emotions from the crew, most of them being of vengeful nature.

It did not take them long to start chanting ‘Vote!’, staring grimly at nine men they encircled. John had always known that his crewmembers could be a bloodthirsty bunch at times, but he did not anticipate such atrocities being brought up in their discussion. Most of them though agreed that, according to the Code, even intent of such treachery could only be appropriately punished by death. John’s breath hitched as he saw absolute anguish and terror in Dufresne’s eyes, and he averted his gaze when they asked for his vote. He could not do anything for those men: they had chosen their fates and their offence was too great. He was not going to lie to himself, admitting, that he also thought that their public death, as terrible as it was, would be actually more beneficial for the crew and him personally. He abruptly said his ‘Aye’, trying not to look at any of them. He did not feel right with that whole situation, but he could not allow himself to be _the only_ ‘Nay’ of this vote. None of them had ever witnessed such unanimity among any of the crew they had been sailing with before, and it made them all feel like they _belonged_ here, like they were their own nation with their own authorities and rules.

After a short preparation and a prayer from De Groot, who looked pained but resolute, the sentences were carried out.

“There will be no more dissent against captain Flint. There will be no more diversion of his plans. There will be nothing, but _adherence_ to the principle that none of us are safe, until we are all safe, and that your brother beside you is working to ensure _your_ future, just like you are working to ensure _his_. We are all in this together.” Billy proclaimed solemnly, supported by nods and gruff cheers.

***

Flint returned to the ship in the dead of night. Silver saw him disappearing into his cabin and waited outside for about half an hour, looking up the starry skies and gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath and headed to the cabin, as if walking to the gallows. He had to get it over with, otherwise he would not be able to rest.

“Captain-” John said evenly, walking into the cabin with Flint’s permission.

“Mr. Silver, how fortunate that you’re still awake.” – Flint sat behind his desk, writing a letter, exactly like John had witnessed him this morning – “How did it go with Mr. Dufresne and his company?”

“Oh, you mean those nine corpses at the bottom the sea, right below us?” John said, controlling his voice carefully, all the while watching Flint’s face. He looked somewhat shocked.

“I haven’t anticipated _that_.” – He said, leaning back on his chair and staring at John in disbelief – “What’s with that Guthrie arrangement? How the hell did it happen?”

“Well, you better ask Billy. It seems like he has taken to heart your appeal to us this morning.”

“I’ve told you-” Flint started, but John interrupted him impatiently.

“I remember what you’ve told us. But so you know, the crew _is_ standing as one now, they _are_ fraternizing. There is nothing that unites people better than public executions.” He said, shaking his head and chuckling bitterly, his eyes remaining cold.

Flint was twisting the rings on his fingers, looking at John pensively. “How many?”

“Nine men.”

“Anyone to be missed?” Flint asked, watching him like a hawk.

“No one indispensable.” John replied, unable to look away from captain’s eyes.

Flint visibly relaxed and, stroking his beard, he finally said. “What’s done is done. It was not a part of our initial plan, but we gotta work with what we have. John, there’s no turning back for us.”

Silver was surprised how Flint’s words made him feel: they cleared his head and, somehow, his conscience. He _felt_ better, after talking to the captain, it comforted him. Only now he realized how truly fucked he was.

“Is something else bothering you?” Flint asked, tilting his head to the side.

“ _Obviously_. I wanted to make sure, that we are still sticking to your plan of not meddling with that hostage affair. How did it go?” John asked, observing Flint’s upper body.

“The girl is alive and physically unharmed. I’ve made some arrangements: she is to be brought under Miss Guthrie’s care and returned to her father in the nearest future. Eleanor is going to be the one deciding the fate of this deal, either ransom or favors for Nassau. She is free to choose either Hornigold or Vane as her ally. We are, however, officially out of this.” Flint said, relaxing into his chair.

“How the hell did captain Low agree to that?! He made a move on Guthrie himself not so long ago, and now he’s just handing the hostage over?!” John asked quickly, not believing his ears.

“It took some persuasion, but he was able to hear my reasoning. Captain Low is going to settle in Nassau for good, his crew becomes a hefty cut. Who knows how long it is going to last?” Flint gestured vaguely; his features soft in the candlelight.

“Alright…” – John said, feeling relieved beyond measure – “So, tomorrow midday we sail?”

“Finally, yes.” – Flint answered, with a curt nod and a fleeting smile – “We gotta catch some rest before that, so if there’s nothing else you wanted to discuss…” He looked John in the eye, as if bidding him farewell.

“Actually, I do.” – John said, surprising himself – “It’s about Billy.” There was a part of him that did not want to bring that up, out of fear of losing this liking that Flint had taken for him. However, he had to take this chance to satisfy his curiosity.

“What about him?” Flint sounded curious, arching his brow.

“He’s been through something horrible, we all know that, but…” – John tried to choose his words as careful as he could – “It seems like he’s carrying a lot of resentment and anger in him. That drama in the evening – practically, it was his doing, he was like a man possessed.” Flint looked at his own hands, as if pondering over something personal.

“I see…I’m going to talk to him about it, John.” He finally said, looking serious.

Silver tried to momentarily persuade himself to be content with that and leave the cabin, like his good judgement told him, but could not help blurting out. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Flint looked somewhat taken aback by John’s blunt question. He squinted his eye, arching his brow. “What do you mean by _something_?”

“Don’t ask me about details, but Billy has been acting quite strange with me. He said that if I wanted to know more, I’ve gotta ask you.” Silver said, watching Flint’s reaction closely. Thankfully, it did not seem like Flint was planning to lose his temper with John’s questioning. The captain looked at him pensively instead.

“Why would he want _you_ to know about whatever business he and I had?” Flint asked, fiddling with his moustache again.

“I’ve got no idea what _he_ is after, but _I_ am sure, that in order to run this ship smoothly, the quartermaster should be aware of the intricacies of relationship such as yours. Billy wields significant influence over the men, and I had to be sure that I can counter him, should he choose to stab _you_ in the back.” He said with determination he did not actually had.

Flint remained silent for a long time, fiddling with his rings, and John was already about to give up and leave the cabin, when the captain looked up at him with his lips pursed.

“Billy Bones and I had had intimate relationship a while ago, it remained a secret and ended amiably shortly before your enlistment. Those are the _intricacies_ you’ve mentioned… Though you hardly have to worry about it, that’s water under the bridge.” – Flint said in his even tone, glaring at him with his chin up – “Now, I believe we’re all gotta prepare for tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr. Silver.”

“Goodnight.” John said automatically, walking out of the cabin with the feeling like his head was about to explode.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to thank the readers for their reading! ;) Your kudos and comments make me happy and motivate me to proceed with the story, even though my work and studies decelerate the process enormously.
> 
> And another thing: if you are anything like me, you love some visuals to go with the story: unfortunately, I don't have any fan-art (yet), but in the beginning of the chapter you see our favourite guys - that's exactly how I picture them (though Flint is sporting his glorious S1 moustache) while writing it all.

_Nassau, 1713_

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_! _What_ in the devil…” – Gates hissed, squeezing into the captain’s cabin, shoving past Flint, who opened the door wearing nothing but his undergarments – “Do you think _you both_ doing?!”

Flint raised his palms apologetically, leaning on the door and following fuming Gates with his squinted eye. “You got every right to be angry-”

“ _I bloody know I do!_ ” – Gates cut him off with another hiss – “I’ve _just_ returned from Hornigold and what a fucking _mess_ I discover first thing! The whole bloody crew been ordered ashore: nobody’s seen you for 24 hours, they are on the brink of a fucking mutiny! The loons on the beach already preaching about setting this ship on fire! What the hell is going on?!” – He looked over to Billy, who was lounging on the bed, his nether regions covered with a sheet – “They think the captain killed you.” – He said, expressively pointing at Billy.

“Yet nothing could be farther from the truth.” – The young man said, languidly stretching and putting his hands behind his head. That earned him a quiet huff from Flint, who was watching him with appreciative gaze and an easy grin. Billy smiled back, now focusing more on Flint’s impressive torso, as if his exasperated quartermaster were not standing two meters away.

“I’m gonna ask again.” – Gates said slowly, his voice trembling with barely contained fury – “What do you think you both doing now?!” He stood near the captain’s desk, which allowed him to watch both men and their anticlimactic reaction. They seemed to be resolute to not take this situation seriously.

“Suppose we have…” – Flint started lazily, scratching his beard and gesturing noncommittally – “…fallen ill?” He moved towards his cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine.

Billy snorted at his response and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Gates, we are _very sick_.”

“I can see it _clearly_.” – Gates said, his voice steely – “ _I_ do not care what you both are doing behind closed doors, we all know that buggery is not an issue in our midst. But you’ve made it a crew’s matter, when you ordered everyone _from the bloody ship_ , making them all think ‘tis for one of captain’s favorite blood rituals and whatnot! You can’t do shit like that on a whim! If you wanna keep _your captaincy_ – you gotta come up with some better fucking story!” He crossed his arms and looked over to the captain. The room fell silent for a while, with frowning Billy sitting up, wrapping himself in the sheet and consciously watching the older men. Flint finished his drink and absent-mindedly ruffled his hair.

“Hal, I apologize. We’ve been reckless, but _I’m_ the one to blame. I should have known better.” – Flint looked at him earnestly and both Gates and Billy were surprised to see that rare soft, pliant side of him – “Please, tell them that we both experienced same symptoms of a food poisoning that we mistook for typhus, thus willingly isolating ourselves from the crew. We are slowly recovering now. Everyone will be allowed onboard tomorrow noon _and_ we got a new course.”

“Just like that?” – Gates chuckled and scratched his bald head – “It’s gonna be a real pain in the ass to calm them all down…” – He looked at Flint still squinting his eye, but it was apparent, that captain’s sincere apology worked – “However, having a new lead might make the situation more manageable…”

“I’ll also talk to them, when they get back.” – Billy said, looking guilty, his relaxed demeanor had disappeared into thin air – “I’m sorry, Mr. Gates, it was my fault-”

“-What’s done is done, Billy, but we’ll talk about it later.” – Gates’ tone was still strict, but his fatherly affection and concern for the young man were obvious – “I gotta head ashore now, I return with the men and supplies tomorrow noon.” – He said, walking energetically towards the door and then faltering for the moment on the threshold – “I hope _you both_ know what you are doing.” After that last admission he pursed his lips and went off, slamming the door behind him.

“When do we ever…” Flint murmured under his breath, peering out of the window to the bay with his eyes glassy.

“I’m sorry…” Billy said quietly, hiding his face in his palms.

“What for?” Flint asked, turning to him in an instant with a wary look.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned having a ship just for us, it was a stupid idea and now-”

Flint smiled softly and approached the bed. In one smooth and slow motion he caressed Billy’s head, bringing his palm under younger man’s chin and tipping his face upwards. “Missing a chance to witness your _charming performance_ at the bowsprit last night? What’s the point of being a pirate, if you can’t have some fun every once in a while?” – He asked with a wink, pleased to see Billy’s face breaking into a wide genuine smile, that sort of smile that only Billy was capable of – “Never seen such impressive balancing act from a drunk man in his birthday suit. Still got any regrets?”

“None whatsoever…” Billy said quietly, hooking his fingers under James’ belt and bringing him closer to kiss his abdomen and nuzzle against it. Flint hummed at that, now gently stroking Billy’s scalp and neck with the tips of his fingers. Bosun’s reaction to that touch could be only described as purring.

Flint remembered how yesterday Billy’s lips trembled after blurting out his explicit confession, how tense his handsome earnest face was, how his eyes were lit with determination.

It was not some regular crewmember, but Billy Bones, _their Billy_. Universally liked, brave, relentless. They had been sailing together for years, Flint had practically witnessed him becoming that fierce and loyal man everybody respected. For Flint it was unnerving to notice Billy’s attention, his awe for the captain, together with other feelings that were far from platonic in nature. And for years they had been playing that game and Flint denied him every time, as he had no inclination to follow the steps of so many merchant ships’ captains who would take advantage of the most inexperienced youth because they did not know any better.

Bones had approached him for the first time at the tender age of fifteen, mere months after they rescued him from the Royal Navy. Flint knew straight away – that serious look with brows furrowed – that meant trouble. He had come to his cabin late at night and asked if he could be of service to the captain, staring at him with his hungry eyes. Adolescent infatuation with the older man, that Billy considered his savior, Flint knew well where it all could come from. That was why after Billy’s suggestion he regarded the boy with strict but not unkind gaze and sent him away with “Mr. Manderley, you’re hard-working member of our crew, you don’t own _me_ anything.” The young man had been gloomy for weeks after that, but then seemed to understand his lesson. In the meantime, thanks to his charming personality, he became the heart and soul of the crew.

However, it took him another three years to build up his courage and he used the celebration of his eighteenth birthday to actively approach Flint once more. James still remembered vividly that magnificent small island: myriad of pools with pure water and white sand, rich vegetation and the sweetest smell of tropical flowers everywhere. It was also the most suitable piece of land for the urgent careening they needed, Flint was ever so practical about that. All men were on the beach: music, loud voices, raucous laughter; they were all in great mood, trying to ply Billy with ungodly amount of rum and the most ridiculous stories about what being ‘a proper pirate’ meant. But Billy had other ideas for the night though and, after copious amount of drinking, used the first real distraction – Joshua and Dooley started wrestling for everybody’s amusement – to grab Flint’s elbow and tug him in the direction of isle’s interior, urging him to quickly follow Billy’s steps.

James was aware of the secretive looks Bones was sending his way all day, so he knew that the young man had been planning something. Even though Flint had not been as drunk as Bones thought he was, he still let the bosun to lead him through the dark to a clearing with the lake they discovered earlier. However, Billy did not stop there, tugging him further through the opulent greenery. Flint followed chastising himself for that moment of weakness, he had no reason to be enjoying a moment of privacy with Bones.

“I knew I heard something, when we were here earlier,” – Billy said, shooting him a conspiratorial smirk – “’S not far off…There.” He proclaimed proudly, climbing up to a picturesque waterfall and positioning himself directly under its streams.

The smell of flowers, sound of running water and gentle coolness of splashes landing on his face: it all sharpened Flint’s senses, making him smile involuntarily, feeling instantly better. His breath hitched, upon focusing on streams trickling down Billy’s shirtless figure. He was gorgeous and he seemed to be pleased with the effect he caused on Flint. He run his hands over his face and his short hair and down his neck, approaching James slowly. His wet skin glistened so smoothly and perfectly in the moonlight, that James became mesmerized: Billy reminded him of Ancient Greek sculptures. He could not tear his eyes from his lithe body and face, illuminated with a smile. His bright eyes and white teeth practically glowed in the darkness. Billy was, undoubtfully, ridiculously good-looking, but it was his charming uniqueness that Flint had been trying and failing to stop being attracted to. He carried himself, his looks, with such comfortable ease and silent dignity: never arrogant, never vain, that James was constantly reminding himself not to stare at him across the deck to catch those sincere smiles and lively movements. But then again, almost every man in their crew at some point did enjoy the sight of Billy Bones doing the rigging.

Flint came to his senses only after feeling one of Billy’s wet hands landing on his neck and the other one sliding to his crotch. Billy was standing so close to him, breathing hotly in his ear.

“I know _what I want_ …” Bones whispered, gently biting James’ earlobe.

“I don’t think you do.” Flint said, placing a hand in the middle of Billy’s chest and pushing him slightly away.

“ _I want you_.” – Billy retorted passionately – “Don’t tell me how _I_ feel.”

“Whatever you feel right now, Billy, _it’s not it_ , trust me.” – Flint uttered softly – “We’d regret it afterwards, so let’s save ourselves the trouble. You must find _someone else_.”

“I _don’t want_ anyone else.” – Billy said resolutely, kissing the side of Flint’s face and running his hands eagerly up Flint’s chest and down his stomach. Bosun’s words echoed in James’ ears: it was the first time they were that close to each other, they both felt dizzy with excitement.

Billy kissed him with such passionate fervor, pressing into him in all his half-naked wet glory, that it clouded James’ mind and he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. He returned the kiss, touching Billy’s tongue with his own with languid strokes, eliciting desperate moans from the young man. Those broken sounds brought Flint back to reality. He held Billy’s shoulders firmly and took a step back, shaking his head.

“ _Fuck_ , why the hell _not_?!” – Billy asked exasperated in his half-gone state – “And save that bullshit about crew’s interests: they wouldn’t care if we fucked. You want me too, come on, _just once_ -”

Flint’s eyes got steely, he frowned. “I don’t think _you_ can handle a simple ‘fucking arrangement’, Billy, and that bothers me, as I do not wish to hurt you. Things are simpler if we stay that way.” – Flint said, putting even more distance between them, hating how lost and desperate Billy looked – “As I said, find someone else.” He turned and walked off without looking back, blaming himself to hell for everything that had just transpired.

Another couple of years passed but Flint still from time to time felt Billy’s covert gazes. The young man had not bothered to follow his advice. Some members of the crew laughed occasionally at Bones’ apparent disinterest in going to the brothel, speculating about his impotence. But Billy somehow always managed to successfully dodge such insinuations with a simple deadpan retort about his tastes being either of high-class or too perverse to even start to describe. He was popular enough for men not to dare prying into his affairs.

Two days ago, it had started as one usual hunt of a promising prize just a couple of hours away from Nassau, that quickly became bloody, after they discovered an ambush of some forty men waiting for them in the hold. The fight was fierce and messy, Flint’s white shirt turning dark from his opponents’ blood. They were checking the survivors, when he saw a dying captain propped near one of the gun ports, holding a fuse in his shaking hands. Flint yelled wildly for his men to get out of the hold at once. He had been the last one at the stairs to the upper deck when he heard an explosion, momentarily losing his hearing and sight and falling into dark abyss.

Billy’s face was sweaty and pale with worry, his lips trembled uncontrollably, and it was the first thing James saw after regaining consciousness. Bones was said to carry Flint out from beneath the debris himself and was repeatedly smacking captain’s cheeks and yelling nonsense, until Flint came to his senses with a low gruff.

Later that evening aboard the _Walrus_ , when that same Billy Bones with his huge pleading eyes slowly took James’ hand, kissed the palm, and placed it in the middle of his own chest, where James could feel the thundering of young man’s heart, Flint could neither avert his eyes, nor step away. It was as if James were hypnotized by the sheer intensity of Billy’s raw emotions, unwillingly showing his own reflection of them on his excited face.

“And here we are today…” – Flint thought, shaking his head, after shortly reminiscing about their history and those turbulent last days, all the while stroking short blond hair of the young man plastered to his front. Meanwhile, Bones’ hands were not idle, ridding him of his garments, never stopping caresses on his way. He was tracing Flint’s torso with his lips, breathing deeply the smell of his skin and moaning so wantonly, that it made Flint’s heartbeat quicken.

“You can’t even imagine how _fucking happy I am_ right now, I wouldn’t mind dying tomorrow.” He proclaimed all of a sudden, lifting his face up and searching for James’ eyes. Flint could not help his grinning at that unequivocal passionate tone, that reminded him of someone from his past, someone so dear to him.

“You know it’s _me_ they’d want to hang for my black magic, not you. You’d be alright and well, drinking grog and fraternizing like you always do.” He answered teasingly.

“I wouldn’t let them…” – Billy said seriously, reaching up to cup Flint’s face – “I’d never accept anyone else as my captain.” Their lips touched softly, reverently, eliciting quiet approving hums from them both.

Billy pressed his forehead to James’, their breath mingling in the scant space between them. “You know, I woke up at dawn, because I had a nightmare.” – Billy said, watching Flint’s eyes and caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs – “I saw you lying there again, unresponsive and cold… And I was trying to do something, _anything_...but nothing worked.” – Billy shivered, momentarily closing his eyes, his jaw twitched – “I remember how empty I felt, like I wouldn’t even care if _I_ lived, you know?”

“What’s with you and all that death talk today?” Flint smiled reassuringly, successfully hiding the slight panic that true meaning of Billy’s words ensued in him.

Billy snorted and pressed his face in the crook of James’ neck, where Flint could feel him smiling. “All I wanted to say is that it was _the best_ feeling to wake up and _feel_ _you_ lying next to me, _at last_.” Billy said, before tugging James back in the bed, kissing him hotly, practically devouring him and destroying his defenses. Flint reciprocated immediately and with vigor. 

“ _What the hell am I doing?_ ” Was the last coherent thought on his mind.

***

“Randall, you’re simply killing me, you know how many times a day everyone takes a piss, but _somehow_ you haven’t noticed _anything_ between Billy and the captain?! Absolutely nothing in fuck knows how many years you all sailed together?!” – John cried out, feeling increasingly frustrated with Randall’s apathetic reaction to his questioning – “Hell, forget ancient history, old chap, think about _that_ – _ju-u-ust_ before I joined the crew…”

“No.”

“ _Good Lord above!_ Alright…” – John wearily rubbed the point between his brows, where he felt the headache from this excruciating exchange started to settle in – “Keep your eyes open, Randall.”

Silver walked off, muttering to himself about his luck running out. Randall was his best, well frankly, the only informant on petty ship’s matters. John had absolutely no inclination to sit around this ship idly all day and spy on people wanking into the cannon barrels, as he got better things to do. Like managing their departure for the unimaginable riches, finally settling that goddamned dispute about the ship’s name, at the same time trying to find out something more about Flint’s ‘intimate relationship’ with Billy Bones. Randall obviously knew what John was asking about but was loyally covering for the bosun.

When John woke up this morning, he laid in his hammock for a while and pondered about what he had learned yesterday. It did make his blood run hot, made him riled up in a senseless fit of jealousy, he felt his innards twisting as well as a sudden urge to smash something. However now, with his head clear, he could clearly see this piece of information for what it was – not at all bad news. Flint’s relationship with Billy ended, _amiably_ , he said. So why the hell should John stress over it? It was none of his business. The fact that this relationship was even possible had sparked not only some hope in his heart, but also his all-embracing curiosity.

The ruckus on the main deck was deafening. One could come to conclusion, that the men were on the brink of a bloody battle, but in reality, they had been bickering about the new name of their warship that was being readied to sail in a couple of hours. It was unfitting to begin the most important voyage of their lives under the name of a fallen enemy, everybody agreed to that. However, the variety and quality of suggested names were truly a cause for concern.

Silver found Flint sitting in the shadowy corner of the deck, watching the crew yell and curse at each other. His gaze was somewhat unfocused, and John knew that captain’s mind was somewhere far away. He walked across the crowded room and took a seat opposite him.

“What’s your pitch?” He asked, casually leaning on a table.

“Beg pardon?” Flint said, snapping himself out of lethargy with visible effort.

“Name for the ship? If I hear another ‘ _Mary_ ’ or ‘ _Anne_ ’ I’m gonna bolt out of here.” – John said, energetically twisting his fingers as if counting votes – “Don’t get me started on such brilliant suggestions like ‘ _Mighty Cock_ ’ or ‘ _Walrus II_ ’.”

Flint grinned at him, and John joined with a toothy smile of his own. That easy connection they had over the last week was still there and going strong.

“What about ‘ _Mary-Anne_ ’?” Flint asked innocently, wistfully glancing up the ceiling. John snorted and looked him over gleefully. He loved when Flint was like that: with his easy smiles, effortless charm and relaxed posture, all of it for John. They were so in tune, that Silver felt like he could achieve everything with him on his side.

“But really, how would you call this ship?” Silver said, playing with his pocketknife and looking at Flint from under his brows, though unable to disguise his grinning.

“ _Seahawk_.” Flint said, without any pondering.

“ _Seahawk_ …You know, I like it, it’s got that…” – Silver gestured vaguely – “That panache to it, like the _Walrus_ had…”

Flint nodded, looking satisfied, and proceeded to watch the heated discussion between the men. He furrowed his brows at another high-pitched cry and breathed out noisily. John caught himself paying too much attention to captain’s face, neck and chest, and, upon realizing that, swiftly looked around to see if anybody was watching them by any chance. To his irritation, Billy was. The most infuriating knowing smirk appeared on his face and he even sent John a wink, before averting his attention to Logan.

“Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time on all that foolishness?” John asked Flint, still staring across the galley at Billy, his lips forming a straight line.

“That is _exactly_ what I am thinking.” Flint replied in a heartbeat.

“Well then…” John said, standing up and walking towards the center of the galley. Reaching it, he stomped two times, feeling every pair of eyes in the room focusing on him. He took a deep breath and looked around him with his signature easy grin.

The _Seahawk_ was able to sail away ahead of schedule with wind advantage. Silver, standing at the bowsprit, could not help but smile, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm breeze that was caressing his face. He could practically smell the sweet scent of freedom and riches and, as he looked behind, was congratulated with the sight of Flint, who was watching him from the bridge. They exchanged smiles and John felt like he was floating on air.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter without too much action, but I hope you will like it. We're building...something here.

_1714, Barbados_

That southern breeze felt heavenly on his bare skin. He stood facing the ocean, his bare feet buried in soft sand, his eyes closed, enjoying that gentle sway of his body. It felt almost like caresses. It was only moments after the sunset and he felt rain coming, there were some voluptuous pink clouds looming ahead. He thought to himself that, despite everything that had happened to him, he was still glad not to be in England. He was particularly glad to be away from London with its chock-full squalor, stench, and terrible weather. There was a slight pang in his chest, when he thought that he would pay a great price to be able to stand right here right now with the man he planned to spend the rest of his days with.

Thinking of Thomas was a habit he was unable to get rid of. For about three years after their forced separation those thoughts had been driving him insane. He always wondered what Thomas’ opinion would be on the news, ideas, books, would he like that dish, how would his face look like after taking in the sky colors of that one particular sunset. He felt that gaping hole in his heart, that would never be filled, because that place was reserved for his future with Thomas, and for it alone. But with time he learned how to live with that pain and, most importantly, how to cherish the memory of that outstanding man he was lucky enough to be so close to.

Not only was Thomas a virtuous, passionate, caring, intelligent and cultured man, but he was also enterprising, daring and full of life. His ability to communicate so fairly and effortlessly with everyone around him, despite of social class, being so optimistic and driven, so articulate, those were the things that demanded James’ attention. However, it was Thomas’ childlike fascination with the world around him, his curiosity, and his open demeanor, that made their interactions so unique. He enchanted James, made him crave for more and, subsequently, stole his heart. They had so much fun together: feeling that in each others’ company they could just let go and enjoy themselves. Thomas would go into the shadiest establishments on a whim, he would try the nastiest looking food, would travel miles just to have a glance at some remnant of a Roman wall he had read about, would learn to walk on his hands just for the sake of it. James had never had either such stimulating conversations or such adventurous and all-encompassing sex with anybody before. They were fucking practically everywhere, always exploring and finding new things to enjoy. Thomas helped him to accept his attraction to men fully, to not be ashamed of that part of himself. James never had to hold back: never felt inadequate, awkward, or perverse.

That was why when it all ended James was lost to the world. Three long years after fleeing London he had been wallowing in self-loathing and despair, with only Miranda being a spark of light in that darkness. He was busy reinventing and establishing himself as a pirate captain, concentrating on that single task, navigating that violent and crude world, that suited this new James so well, with ease, too hurt and stupefied to look around him. However, after a while he realized, how disrespectful he had been towards the memory of his lover. Thomas’ vivacious spirit would rebel against him wasting his life on violence and dullness. He and Mirada both were slowly recovering from that blow life dealt them, and she was coping much better than he, accepting the simpler life in the island interior. Not once James wondered how it must feel like for splendid Lady Hamilton to be away from the refined high society and its many pleasures. Miranda had never accused him of her ruin, never blamed him for destroying her husband, and he was so unbelievably grateful for that, cowardly knowing that those justified words from her could obliterate him.

She was not jaded or bitter, even though she had every right to be. She was as unique as her husband. Her strength, independence and wisdom inspired him the most. And then, little by little, James forced himself to start cherishing his life again. He could busy himself with a great novel and actually finish it, take care of his body, appreciate expensive garments, jewelry, enjoy music. And finally, he was relieved to find out that he still could find pleasure in the arms of another man.

“For Thomas, this evening definitely would be too gorgeous to stay inside.” James thought, breathing in fresh salty air deeply, and that thought did not spoil his mood, but improved it.

He had heard someone quietly approaching him from behind and recognized that person immediately from the sound of his steps, curling his lip in a lazy smile. He felt Billy’s massive arms encircling him in a gentle embrace and his lips pressing against the back of his neck.

“That’s some fresh fucking air for a change.” Billy chuckled near his ear, resting his chin on Flint’s shoulder.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” James murmured absent-mindedly, slowly stroking Billy’s arms around him.

“It is. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Wanted you to rest, I haven’t anticipated staying here for so long.” James said, tilting his head back and leaning on Billy.

“Something bothering you?” Billy asked, his tone slightly worried, placing his palm in the middle of James’ chest.

For Flint, Billy’s complete devotion to him was inexplicable and utterly disarming. Even more baffling to him was Bones’ ability to expertly hide all that tenderness behind a mask of brooding tolerance. They had been together for a year, and most of the crew had no clue about their captain and bosun being intimate. Some of them suspected it of course, spotting Billy leaving captain’s cabin early in the morning, but were wisely keeping it to themselves. Billy’s demeanor transformed so drastically when they were alone: he was wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“At the moment? About fourteen different things.” – Flint smirked, feeling first raindrops on his bare skin – “But I also really wanted to wait for the rain.”

“It’s gonna be a full-blown storm in a while.” – Billy said, tugging James to face him, all the while watching the horizon with his brow furrowed – “Let’s go back to the hut.”

“Wait a bit…” – Flint openly admired Billy’s handsome face, noticing a couple of raindrops landing near his plump lips.

Another memory from ten years ago was rushing through his mind. He and Thomas were leaving the Admiralty late after some heated and prolonged discussions, both of them relieved that the meeting was finally over, and they could spend the whole night together. It was raining like hell and James regretted his suggestion to dismiss Hamilton’s carriage to return home by foot, as it was mere ten minutes away. Thomas teased him about that suggestion as they were sprinting towards the estate. Suddenly, James felt Thomas pushing him towards the narrow alleyway, pressing him against the wall and attacking his mouth with his own in a passionate kiss. James could never bring himself to deny his lover, so he kissed him back, but soon enough he was holding Thomas’ face in his hands, quickly glancing around to see if they had any witnesses.

“A tad indiscreet, if you ask me. What’s that all about?” James panted, some tension leaving him, as there was, thankfully, not a soul around.

“I only now realized that I had never kissed you _in the rain_ , so I had to make it right.” Thomas’ smirk and his eyes gleaming with mischief were irresistible, and James surged forward to kiss him hotly once more.

“And how is it?” He asked after a short while, stepping back, still aware that they could not be seen like this on the street.

“Exquisite, one-of-a-kind experience.” – Thomas’s breath was strained – “Hope we can repeat it, sooner or later.” They exchanged impish grins and proceeded their run to the residence, hooting and hollering like a couple of youngsters.

Flint smiled at this memory, still gazing at Billy, who smiled back happily, flashing his white teeth. “What?” Billy asked, raking his fingers through Flint’s now completely wet hair.

“I wonder what it’s like to kiss you in the rain.” James answered, enjoying Billy’s animated reaction: he was obviously delighted, but overwhelmed, his smile turning shy. Flint pulled him closer and captured his lips in a tender kiss. That slide of their wet skin and hot breath mingling felt amazing. James broke the kiss after a while and pressed their foreheads together, enjoying warm streams trickling down his back and Billy’s embrace in equal measure. He felt Billy mumbling something about him being a bloody romantic against his skin, all the while signing wistfully and being all smiles himself.

***

It was their second day in the open waters: calm sea and strong tailwind, not a cloud in sight. In Flint’s estimation they were fortunate enough to reach the _Urca_ wreck tomorrow noon. Aboard everything seemed to be running smoothly and men were in high spirits.

However, it was still mindboggling to John just how much there was for him to do, he hardly had any spare time and slept restlessly. Of course, he knew that being a second person in ship’s hierarchy could not be an easy task by default, but he wondered again and again how the hell did Gates manage to handle it so well. It seemed like quartermaster’s presence was required everywhere at once: he had just solved shipmates’ dispute in the galley, and already, he was being pulled outside to assist the riggers, all the while getting bombarded by De Groot’s nautical bullshit. The old bastard knew well enough that navigation technicalities were not John’s strong suits, and he seemed to enjoy confusing him, at the same time demanding Silver’s input. 

John had already lost count of how many times he excused himself to ‘inspect something in the hold’, in reality just evading his crew. He felt under the pressure of his new position, of captain’s and crew’s expectations, of their entire gold hunt. He wasn’t used to having any _official_ responsibilities anyway, but now he was swamped with all sorts of nonsense. He envied Flint: even though it was uncommon on pirate ships, _his_ cabin was impenetrable for the crewmembers, nobody even questioning that. John knew that he could also find his refuge there, but only for a while. Flint would never tolerate anyone idly lingering in his cabin when there was still job to do. 

At the same time, uneasiness that settled in his chest after realizing that, in case of them launching an attack, he must be the first one over the rail, was taking its toll on John. He wound himself up to the point when he was starting to imagine the cries of ‘Sails!’ and bell ringing. He did not consider himself a coward, but he knew too well just how easy it was for him to die before, during or even after a successful boarding: a stray bullet, a broadside, blood loss or gangrene, and it, of course, made him jittery. Losing his life _now_ in some avoidable pointless fight? They could count John out, signed articles be damned.

On his way to the galley John was intercepted by Billy, who gave him a suspiciously friendly smile and asked him to follow him downstairs to speak privately. Silver was resolute in his decision to not hold a grudge against Bones for being with Flint, as it was an exercise in futility. Water under the bridge, as the captain said himself. Private affairs aside, John had to be cautious with the bosun, who could have newly discovered the passion for executions, and watch his act with him with extra care.

“I’ve seen you busting your arse with the crew.” Billy said, leaning on a beam and crossing his arms on his chest.

“It’s what expected from a quartermaster, isn’t it?” John sat down on a tall barrel, watching Billy with a polite neutral expression on his face.

“On some ships, probably. You could say that.” – Billy chuckled – “But you’re not doing yourself any favors with that strategy.”

“Care to elaborate?” John said, keeping the tone conversational.

“Over the last days I’ve heard a lot about you _acting as a temporary quartermaster_. You, of course, haven’t anticipated that things are going to stay that way after my timely resurrection?”

“You’re up for the post?” John arched his brow.

“Done it before, haven’t I?” – Billy curled his lip – “There are talks about the new vote.”

“If that’s what the men want, then…” John let it trail off, gesturing vaguely. Perhaps that was his way out of this, sent from above. Billy could become their new quartermaster; he had charisma and experience, knew significantly more about running the pirate ship, and he was a great fighter. Silver was tempted to just hand the post over. However, he had to think about the consequences of such decision. He had endured nasty beatings to gain crew’s trust and he did not want it all to be in vain.

Billy looked him over with a thoughtful expression, so that John wondered if he let any sign of relief to momentarily appear on his face.

“ _That’s it_? You’d just comply?” The bosun asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Wouldn’t have any choice, I suppose. I’m in here just for my fair share of gold, Billy, and I’m not _that_ greedy. A smaller share is better than no share.” He proclaimed easily, leaning back in a nonchalant pose.

“Yeah, like it wouldn’t sting your pride to be outvoted.” – Billy said, still measuring him with his gaze, but becoming visibly more amused – “But you don’t have to worry about me going after your job.”

“Why the hell not?” John was genuinely surprised by Billy’s stance. If the bosun was telling the truth, he would have the votes, no doubts.

“Let’s just say that crew’s official hierarchy is not a center of my attention at the moment.” – Billy shrugged – “I’m doing my part flawlessly, _and_ I’ve already secured a much bigger share for myself, you know, for all that dramatic disappearance and torture. You, on the other hand, should be firmer with the crew. Don’t let them walk over you.”

“What a valuable piece of advice. You’re giving those for free now?” John said, watching Billy scrunching his nose.

“I know something about you, you know something about me. I’m comfortable with that arrangement. I don’t benefit directly from your failure, and believe it or not, I think you got what it takes – just give them hell every once in a while, and you’ll be fine.”

“Billy, I don’t know what to say. Perhaps, the captain would prefer _you_ to be his second.” John said with a grin.

John had noticed the shift in Billy’s mood, as well as in his posture, straight away, as the bosun regarded him from head to toes with a loaded gaze. Silver was suddenly very aware of the small room they were in, the surroundings were murky, lit with a single lantern they brought.

“Did he tell you?” Billy asked gruffly after a long pause.

“He did. ‘Intimate relationships that ended amiably’, he described it as.” John answered, watching bosun’s reaction closely.

“How quaint. Really hit the nail on the head.” Bones said abruptly with his lips pursed.

“What happened?” John asked softly, not even expecting an answer. To his surprise, it seemed like Billy was in the mood to share, and with Silver, of all people.

“Would you describe ‘ _fucking on every damn surface all over the ship for over a year_ ’ as intimate relationship?” Billy said lazily, and John felt blush coming up his cheeks. He could imagine it very well, and he was glad, that they were not aboard the _Walrus_ at this moment, as he would not bear any more visualization. “I’d been gagging for him for years, and when I finally _got him_ , I couldn’t get enough.”

Upon saying it, Billy slowly crossed the small space between them, stopping mere inches away from John’s opened legs. Even though John was sitting on the barrel, their eyes were almost on the same level due to Billy’s impressive height. 

“Do you like imagining how he fucks?” Billy said quietly, peering into John’s eyes intently. Silver swallowed and tilted his chin proudly upwards. He hated to admit that Billy was arousing like that, but he sure as hell was not going to make a fool of himself and discuss his own desire for Flint with the bosun. “For years, I’ve been wondering, stroking myself to it every night. How do you think he is: rough, gentle, selfish, demanding, unhinged? What does he like? What would he allow?”

John slowly shook his head and concentrated his attention on trying to suppress his growing erection, ignoring Billy’s very pleasing form looming right in front of him. He could not understand his own lively reaction to Billy’s provocation, as it was certainly just a provocation. Bones was terribly attractive, but he was not that one man occupying John’s mind practically non-stop, he was not the one making his mouth salivate and his stomach churn. He could not tell if he was aroused by Billy himself or by the mere talk of Flint. Probably by a combination of both.

“I can tell you that none of those fantasies come even close to the _real thing_.” – Billy whispered near his ear, making John shudder involuntarily – “I’ve _never_ been fucked so _thorough_ before.” The images of Flint vigorously fucking Billy flooded John’s brain; they would look magnificent together, with their muscular bodies intertwined.

“And you would want the same treatment, as I can see.” – Billy said, his hand hovering over the front of John’s trousers, but not touching it – “I notice how you look at him – you know exactly what you want.” – John averted his eyes to Bones’ chest to not see his smirk, his gaze unintentionally travelling down to his abdomen and crotch, and that view did not help him at all in quelling his arousal – “And I wonder, how can the captain _still_ resist such temptation?”

“Billy Bones, you’re an absolute menace.” – John laughed, catching bosun’s gaze and shifting forward – “Tell me, how _amiably_ did it _really_ end?”

Billy’s sly smile did not wither, but John was sure he caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes.

“Uttering a dozen of words to each other in five months, it’s pleasant enough, huh?” Billy responded.

Just before John could investigate that side of Billy further, he heard the bell ringing, and his insides turned cold. This time it had to be real – there was an enemy ship ahead. He and Billy exchanged wary looks and rushed to the weather deck, where most of the crew had gathered.

Flint was already there, with his looking glass directed north-west. With a stern face he was barking orders left and right. Upon seeing John and Billy, he curtly gestured them over.

“Spanish frigate, about fifty guns, might be the King’s aid.” Flint said, his whole focus on the barely visible ship in the distance.

“So soon?” Billy was agitated.

“We can’t be sure, but this is not some fucking merchant.” – The captain turned to face them, his lips pressed tightly – “We got a wind and those bloody sails. In a couple of hours, we are gonna find out more.”

John stared at the tiny dot on the horizon, feeling desperation seizing him. Flint caught his gaze and furrowed his brow.

“There’s no other way. They’ve seen us too. We must engage.” The captain proclaimed deliberately, before squeezing John’s shoulder and heading to his cabin. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we returning to the land of Plot? Hope you'll like this chapter.
> 
> I wish you all happy holidays (despite everything)! The world just keeps getting crazier around us, so you all be sure to stay safe and healthy.

John decided that right then and there was as good a time as any to follow Billy’s advice, yelling at the top of his lungs at him, Logan, and De Groot to do their damned job and see captain’s orders carried out. To his mild surprise, his urgent tone and copious swearing worked the crew perfectly and, consequently, every station was manned in no time, all participants focused and eager for a fight. With sudden satisfaction Silver watched how obediently they followed his directions. Those he was confident to give, being instructed by Flint personally at the beginning of their journey. John was heading to the captain’s cabin, as he saw Billy starting to climb up the mainmast. The bosun caught his eye and winked at him, bracing himself along the rope. Silver grimaced and hurried to the cabin.

“We’re ready.” John said, entering Flint’s abode, seeing his figure hunched over the desk with charts.

Flint momentarily looked up at him and nodded, gesturing at the closest map. “We were fortunate enough to obtain all those documents and schedules from the previous owners, along with the captain’s logs. I’ve translated them yesterday – that brig ahead us must be _Santa Margarita_ , forty-six guns, hundred men minimum. Just like this ship we’re sailing, she is the official convoy, forth of the line, stationed further South. Must have suspected the worst, when the _Urca_ failed to reach the next port as scheduled.”

“You’re probably right about that. They’re heaving to.” John said dutifully, despite of a bitter taste at the back of his throat.

“As they should, after spotting our red crosses. We’ll get close. Here’s the translated version of their flag signals, take that to Billy. I want raking fire towards their stern. I want them immovable. We board as soon as possible, ensuing as much panic as possible.”

“Won’t be striking our colours?” John asked, looking out of the window with unfocused eyes.

“Just before the boarding. Though all those men are as good as dead now, we can’t allow them to get away from us, you understand that?” Flint said, his voice tense. 

“Clearly.” John rasped and turned to leave the cabin, as he felt Flint’s palm on his bicep.

“John, wait a minute.” – He said, his tone a tiny bit warmer than before – “Take ‘em, these are quite reliable.” – He profited Silver two pistols with gorgeous engravings – surely something out of captain’s personal possessions – “Make those first two shots count, then throw them at someone’s head and immediately retreat to the stern. Take one of my cutlasses as well. Avoid close combat at all costs. Your best tactic is dodging. Keep your wits about you and be ready to improvise.”

“You’re not seriously teaching me how to fight two hours before the battle?” John laughed out, his voice was strained and overly cheerful, indicating an onslaught of incoming emotions.

“You are going to be fine, just like those other times.” Flint said, without breaking eye contact.

“It was purely dumb luck all those other times.” Silver grunted out, nervously biting his lower lip.

Flint’s gaze darted for a second to John’s mouth and back, peering into him intensely as if trying to hypnotize. “Then in two hours you’re gonna impress us all _again_ with your dumb luck. I’m gonna be beside you.”

John felt as if that iron grip, that had been crushing his lungs for the good part of the day, started to relent. He mastered a small but genuine smile and nodded, looking down at the pistols he was holding. “I don’t need to tell you how utterly _disappointing_ it would be to die today, before reaching the golden coast.”

“You are not going to die today.” Flint said so resolutely, as if he knew all about John’s fate from a trusted source.

It somehow calmed Silver. “Alright, captain, but if I do – you owe me.” He curled his lip and saw Flint mirroring it.

“I’ll be going to hell already in debts.” He said pensively and returned his attention to the chart.

John picked up his weapons and walked to the door, stopping at the threshold to glance around his shoulder. He took in Flint’s figure, his profile, leather of his coat, shine of his hair, memorizing it in smallest details. He considered blurting out something ridiculously sentimental, but common sense prevailed. John walked out the door, tightly grasping the solid handles of the guns.

***

The _Seahawk_ crew worked like a single living organism. Flint stood at the quarterdeck with the same face he always had while hunting, the thrill of it obvious in his calculated expression. Other men on the upper deck were glancing up at him, soon enough swept by the same fervour. They had exchanged the flag signals with the brig and passed the test. That was how they managed to get so very close to their unsuspecting enemy. A dozen of unbelievably fortunate shots of their swivel guns destroyed the helm, and minutes later they were coming along broadside, wrecking _Santa Margarita_ ’s gun deck, successfully crippling their opponent. They sent the grappling hooks flying and the boarding started.

The fight was a blur. The enemy crew had not been ready for such course of events, seeing how disorganized and terrified they were. John was the first one over the rail, just like he ought to be. He tried not to look at the faces, all distorted by terror and desperation, concentrating on the hands instead. He did as the captain told him, shooting two Spaniards close range, using gun’s handle to strike someone’s nape, and advancing to the devastated helm. He stood there with his blade drawn, warily looking around. He saw Flint, Billy, Joshua and Joji reducing enemy’s numbers on the main deck. It seemed that the crew of _Santa Margarita_ was significantly smaller than Flint expected, which of course played into their hands. He saw more of their men boarding the ship, ready to raise hell.

All of a sudden, an ox of a man came into John’s view from below. He emerged out of the captain’s cabin, observed the fight in front of him and started to make his way purposefully towards Flint, who, at the moment, was facing backwards. John was acting quickly and without thinking. He leapt down from the helm with a mad cry, both his hands on the handle of his blade. Its tip sliced deep right through the flesh of the man’s back with great force and precision, leaving John standing covered in blood above the massive twitching body.

He lifted his weapon and looked around quickly to assess other dangers, but found none, most of the fighting now going on in the hold. Flint was shouting orders on his way to the captain’s quarters. Joshua and Muldoon were checking for survivors nearby, at the same time glancing over to John with round eyes.

“Oi, Silver!” Joshua shouted and grinned at him with his terrifying dentures. John wiped the blood from his brow, noticing a slight tremor in his hand, and saluted him, catching his breath. Adrenaline was coursing through him: he felt invincible, and at the same time very fragile. He looked down: his shirt was soaked with blood and none of it was his. He closed his eyes and wished to be far away from here.

Soon enough Flint approached him and put his hand on John’s shoulder. His smile was wicked and reassuring at the same time.

“ _You absolute daredevil_.” – He said, patting him couple of times, making John’s eyes flutter – “Captain’s quarters are empty, take whatever useful you can find, preferably a ledger, we ought to investigate it later. Enough excitement for today.” He concluded, still regarding John warmly. John wanted to give him some cheeky answer, maybe even tease him a bit about saving his arse, ask his opinion, but the words would not come out. He could only look at Flint, noticing a small bleeding scratch over his brow and a smudge of soot on his cheek, and nod.

The captain’s cabin of _Santa Margarita_ was much more modest than Flint’s current one. However, it took John a while to scavenge through the Spanish captain’s belongings. He had found the ledger and the logs but could not tear his eyes from a beautiful casket incrusted with amber, that was precariously tucked under the dresser, obviously hidden in a rush. He inspected it carefully, finding inside a plethora of different rings, earrings, bracelets, and pendants, all of them genuine and extremely valuable. John looked around him pensively, furrowing his brow. The content of that casket alone could ensure someone’s freedom till the rest of one’s days. How did it land in the cabin of that convoy’s ship? John placed the books and the casket in a sack and headed back to the _Seahawk,_ whose upper deck was bursting with life.

Muldoon was carrying a small crate to their hold, when he spotted John climbing over the rail. The gunner grinned at him, tilting his head to the side.

“Oi, John, got something for you, mate!” – He proceeded going down the stairs, John following him quickly – “’ere, for your bloody glory, quartermaster, some fine French wine. That was fucking spectacular what you’ve done there! I hope Joji’s seen it too, otherwise he won’t believe it when I tell him.” Muldoon was so enthusiastic that John felt his own mood improving, shaking off that gloomy pensiveness that enveloped him after the rush of the fight had subsided.

“Thank you. We’ve done well.” He said with a shadow of his usual grin, accepting the crate from the man.

“I gotta tell you something, John.” – Muldoon conspiratorially lowering his voice – “Boys been talking about the vote: they reckoned Billy better be our quartermaster, they said you gonna shit your breeches before boarding. But you know, I was always telling them you’ll be just fine.” – He said, winking at him and rubbing his hands together – “Anyway, those who argued you’re a coward can shut the fuck up, now they’ve seen you in action.”

“Appreciate it, mate.” John said, nudging Muldoon with his elbow and flashing him a smile.

In about an hour the brig was stripped off everything that could generate immediate value, which was quite a lot, deeming that unexpected hunt a roaring success. They set off to their initial destination unscathed, leaving only a sinking wreck and billowing smoke in their wake.

***

John occupied the officers’ quarters at the stern, below captain’s cabin. In comparison with the _Walrus_ , the man-o-war was spacious enough for the crew, some of the rooms even left vacant, as the men were used to cohabitate in a crowded space and did not wish to change out of habit. John did not share those sentiments, shutting the door behind him with a relieved sign. The small room with a bunk and a window officially belonged to him, and for the first time in his adult life John could arrange his personal belongings in privacy – two crates with goods from Nassau and a chest full of new garments acquired today.

Silver brought with him two large buckets of water, soap and rags. He cleaned himself thoroughly, scrubbing his skin till it was red. He washed his hair, brushed his teeth and put on his new clothes, consisting of a simple but fine white shirt, dark breeches and leather boots.

He felt much better, agitation finally leaving him. He did not feel devastated at all, in fact, he was elated. He threw himself onto his bunk and placed the casket he found on his belly, going through the contents. He could not resist picking out a couple of heavy rings for himself. He put them on and admired the view. Flint was wearing his rings like that and John wondered if he was going to notice his imitation.

John heard the approaching footsteps and looked up to see Billy swinging the door open.

“Just wanted to tell you that your presence isn’t needed on deck, and in an hour, we’re setting adrift for the night.” – He said and gestured to the casket – “What’s that?”

“A stash from _Santa Margarita_. Here, take it to the captain, will you?” – John handed it over with the logs and looked Billy straight in the eye – “Thanks, Billy.”

John knew that the bosun understood, that he was thanking him not only for bringing him up to date. Bones nodded and smirked at him. “Join the crew for a few rounds, the captain allowed a mild celebration.”

“Aye.” Silver grinned, energetically hopping off his bunk and following Billy upstairs. He was going to fraternize with the crew and strengthen his position. But to truly celebrate this eventful day he would have to visit the captain later.

***

Flint was not surprised one bit to see John entering his cabin in an exaggeratedly jovial mood. Silver even bowed formally and enquired after his well-being with a cheeky grin.

“Shan’t complain, Mr. Silver, hope you are well this evening,” – Flint smirked and gestured to the chair opposite him – “Please, take a seat.”

Before sitting down John had placed a rather dusty and heavy bottle on the table between them. He looked proudly at it and signed wistfully.

“Don’t you sometimes see something and think: ‘I’ve never _tried it_ , but _I just know_ it’s gonna be good!’?” He asked, looking devoutly at the bottle.

“I experience something like that sometimes.” – Flint proclaimed lazily, grinning at him with his eye squinted. His open demeanor pleased John tremendously. Silver was not sure if he only imagined Flint’s tone being suggestive, nevertheless it made him blush and nervously clear his throat.

“It’s champagne, real one, found in their cargo. I’ve never tried it before, you?” John asked, leaning into his chair, and tucking a long curl behind his ear.

“I had to drink a lot of it actually.”

“Poor you! _Had to_ drink champagne? Enjoying the finest of companies as well, I presume?” – John asked, rolling his eyes, at the same time wondering about Flint’s previous life.

“Not as fine as my present company, of course.” Flint retorted and arched his brow.

“I’m flattered.” – John gave Flint another half-bow, smirking at him – “Captain, may I suggest we discuss our latest trophy tomorrow morning? Tonight, can we crack that bottle open to celebrate?”

“Definitely, but let’s drink out of my new acquisition. Men hauled it from _Margarita’s_ cargo.” – Flint said, reaching out for an elaborately ornamented box, which held a set of the most opulent-looking chalices John has ever seen. He was sure that it had been a present for royalty, judging by the number of precious jewels adorning the surface.

“Really?” – John laughed, shaking his head in disbelief – “That’s extremely sumptuous.”

“Are you gonna tell me you won’t blow your share of the prize on extremely sumptuous things?” Flint asked him teasingly, looking at him with an exaggerated expression.

“The only acceptable way for me to acquire something _that_ ridiculously excessive is by stealing, and isn’t it _exactly_ _how_ -”

“-Yeah, we shall not go into detail.” – Flint chimed in with a laugh – “So, you won’t spend your own money on something like that?”

“Didn’t take me for a _rational_ man, did you?” Silver asked, shaking his head, as always enjoying captain’s company a bit too much.

“I must admit, I’ve based my assumption only on the stories of your childhood. I imagined you’d like to experience every aspect of opulence.” Flint said, uncorking the bottle with a loud bang and filling the chalices. John was watching him, and the process of fizzy liquid being poured, with great curiosity. Flint had noticed his childlike reaction and smiled at him warmly.

“And only a year ago you’d be right.” – John replied, raking his hair away from his face – “So many nights I’ve been lying awake in the stifling berth, picturing all those nice things I was going to have, if I only had a chance – a country estate with stables, myriad of servants, finest clothes, golden dinner services. But now it all just seems so…unnecessary, you know.” – John took his glass from Flint and finished, staring in his eyes – “Now I just want _some place_ to finally call home.”

Flint nodded meaningfully, as if agreeing with him entirely. “You’re gonna be able to afford a real home soon.” – He proclaimed, and then added with a tiny smirk – “Who knows, maybe then you’ll develop an appetite for all those pleasures money can buy.”

“As we’re nearing that beach… It just feels so unreal.” – John said pensively, stroking the handle of the chalice with his thumb.

“ _This_ , however, is real, and it’s getting warmer – we better drink it now.” – Flint said, raising his glass – “To your health, Mr. Silver.”

“To yours, captain.” John said, taking a sip. His face flinched a little, and that elicited a chuckle from Flint, who spotted it right away.

“Not to your liking?” He asked conversationally, looking very sly.

“We’re definitely finishing that bottle, but do you mind if we drink some port afterwards?” John said, knocking back his glass with his eyes closed. Flint huffed and nodded, pouring down the drinks.

They conversed amiably, enjoying each other’s company, and after a while Flint had to fish out a bottle of port from under his desk, and then another one, and the next one after that. That evening was everything that John could have hoped for. Alive and well, and alone with the captain. Silver signed contentedly, breathing in that sweet scent in his glass.

“To your, hopefully inexhaustible, dumb luck!” Flint proclaimed solemnly, raising his chalice.

“I’ll sure drink to that!” – Silver said, feeling the pleasant warmth creeping down his body – “May it help me to watch your back.” He tipped his glass and hummed appreciatively.

“Yes, with brave John Silver, who spreads death from above, watching my back…” – Flint spoke contemplatively, stroking his beard – “I got nothing to fear.”

They sat in comfortable silence for some time, both momentarily lost in their thoughts. Flint was fiddling with his rings, looking at a burning candle with unfocused gaze. John caught himself staring at the captain once again.

“That port is fucking strong.” – Silver broke the silence to state the obvious – “It is delicious, but I can’t feel my tongue anymore.”

Flint snorted loudly. “It is to enjoy _in moderation_ , Mr. Silver, and we are downing it like some swill they serve on Tortuga.” – He chuckled and caught John’s gaze – “Another hallmark of our low-class upbringing.”

John laughed and slumped into his chair, swinging his leg over the armrest. The room had not yet started to spin, so he knew that his condition was still enjoyable, and he felt pleasant looseness in his limbs. Flint was obviously affected as well, judging by his relaxed posture, flushed cheeks, and that glint in the eye.

“You look good like that.” Flint suddenly said in a very casual tone, knocking breath out of John.

“Like what?” He asked immediately, flashing Flint his toothiest smile, and tilting up his chin.

“Like _that_.” – Flint gestured vaguely to his relaxed form, while eyeing John appreciatively – “Roguish.” He twisted his glass in his hand and drank the rest.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Silver said innocently, running his hand through his hair, without stopping his grinning. He was certainly too bloody drunk to be cautious with his act around Flint. He felt excitement coursing through him.

Flint rolled his eyes and stood up with a slight sway. He quickly walked around his desk, grabbed the back of John’s chair, dragged it few steps back and spun it, all in one dexterous move. Now John was facing that gorgeous full-length mirror, a highlight of cabin’s lavish interior, and could see his reflection, that was, true to Flint’s words, rather roguish. He was a picture of satiated debauchery, with his left leg on the armrest and his right one outstretched, candlelight dancing on his tanned collarbones and necklaces, visible in his open shirt, his disarrayed curls over one side of his face. He was holding a couple of yellow mombins in his left hand and the ornate chalice in the other. John focused on that stranger in the mirror, how the light bounced off the jewels and metal of his rings, accentuating the length of his fingers. He liked that view very much.

However, it took him a second to register, that Flint was still standing behind his chair, lightly leaning on its back, propped on one arm, also watching John’s reflection. It made John nervously lick his lips: they were dark, sweet and sticky.

Flint smirked at him and reached out, carefully taking one mombin from John’s palm and biting into its flesh. Silver felt his breath hitching up from such momentary proximity.

“Guess I know what you mean.” – John said, taking a bite of the last fruit in his hand, and smiled cheekily.

Flint chuckled again and then slowly, deliberately leaned closer to John, propping himself on his elbows instead. Silver shuddered, as he felt captain’s breath on his neck. All his senses concentrated on that heat radiating from Flint’s body. He turned his head to the right; his eyes were at the same level as Flint’s jaw. The captain’s eyes were still focused on their reflection, and John rushed to turn his gaze to the mirror again. _That_ view he liked even more.

“ _Definitely roguish_.” Flint said, slowly nodding his head.

John took another sip of wine, leaned over the armrest to put his glass on the floor. When he sat back, he managed to further reduce the distance between him and Flint.

He looked up to the mirror, meeting Flint’s amused eyes, and ran his hand first over his necklaces, then slowly down his chest, stopping at his inner thigh. It made fabric of his trousers further outline his hardening cock. Flint watched him intently, making no move. John stroked himself through his trousers with slow deliberation, releasing his breath with some strain for Flint to hear.

The captain did not change his stance and, to John’s utter disappointment, did not reach out to touch him. His lips curled in a smile, that sent shivers down John’s spine.

“I see…” – Flint said casually, as if on a daily basis he had to deal with numerous quartermasters drunkenly presenting themselves to him in a scandalous fashion – “I think we’ve had quite enough to drink for tonight…” He smirked again, noticing how John’s breathing quickened. John did not appreciate what Flint was implying: it sounded too much like a mild rejection. Given that this opportunity was as good as any other to finally try his luck with the man he had been daydreaming about for so long, John decided to throw the caution to the wind. 

“So, no more drinking, let’s do something else instead.” Silver said, his voice rough and tone urgent. He saw Flint’s jaw twitching, his gaze focused on their reflection and felt even more excited.

“I don’t believe it to be a good idea-” Flint answered, tearing his gaze from John’s pants with some effort and straightening his back. Silver knew where all this was going and he could not allow it to happen, not now.

“-Nonsense, it’s a fucking _brilliant_ idea.” John interrupted him urgently.

“We can’t fool around like that, John, we’ve got our duties and such distractions-” Flint started, but John only heard feeble excuses that none of them believed.

“-And we’re both perfectly capable of distinguishing between the matters of the ship and our _personal_ matters, captain, truly, I think we’re beyond any unprofessional squabbles. And we won’t be jeopardizing either our positions or our endeavor.” – John said firmly, enjoying the sight of Flint seriously considering giving in – “Besides, don’t you think it’d be _criminal_ not to try at least once?”

“I must admit, you make a convincing argument…” Flint smoothed his hair back, stepping near the chair, standing tall and glancing once more at their reflection. John was mesmerized by it too and met Flint’s flaming eyes in the mirror.

“We can do anything, whatever we want.” He said, his voice low, tempting and velvet-like.

“ _Anything_?” Flint’s grin became predatory, his brow arching.

“ _Almost anything_?” John corrected himself immediately with a sheepish smile, in return he was rewarded with a view of the captain tilting his head back to let out a hearty laugh, that deep rolling sound reverberating in John’s bones.

Silver placed his palm on Flint’s stomach, an inch above his belt and slowly stroked him upwards, crumpling the fabric of Flint’s shirt on his way, revealing a strip of delectable skin. He watched captain’s face with bated breath, thrilled that Flint neither moved away from him, nor showed any sign of displeasure. He lowered his chin just a fraction, staring at John from above with that lazy smile that always did something to Silver’s heart. Without skipping a beat, he brought his other hand around Flint’s side and placed it on his lower back, gently tugging towards him. His breath quickened when he felt Flint complying, willingly getting closer. He admired Flint’s muscular abdomen, slight outlines of veins, his fair skin peppered with freckles. John quickly brought his face closer and left a trail of eager open-mouthed kisses on that deliciously hard stomach, that smelled faintly of coconut. The feel and the smell of Flint were intoxicating, but when he felt captain’s hands caressing his head, it all overwhelmed him, and he could not suppress a loud and keen moan. He traced those veins with his tongue down to the edge of Flint’s belt, reaching to unbuckle it, but faltered, when he felt Flint’s broad palm under his chin. John looked up to meet his heated gaze.

“John.” – Flint breathed out, stroking Silver’s jaw with his thumbs – “Believe me when I tell you, _that_ is an offer I am _extremely tempted_ to accept.”

Silver could not help but lean into that touch, trying to coax Flint with his own hungry eyes and nimble fingers, that were thrilled to finally touch the body they had been craving. In relative silence of the cabin, they could hear clearly the two bells, struck by the middle watch, indicating one hour past midnight.

Flint’s expression shifted, as if shutting down, and he slightly furrowed his brow. He then tucked a strand of John’s hair behind his ear and somewhat reluctantly stepped back.

“However, tomorrow is the day of reckoning. It is pivotal that we are focused and ready for everything that awaits us on that beach. You better get to your cabin and have a good rest.” Flint said, heading to his desk.

“Captain, how the hell am I supposed to get _any_ rest _now_?” – John’s whole being protested that abrupt decision, disappointed to see Flint’s resolute expression – “Though I can see your point, tomorrow is too important…” He stood up and stretched with a muffled groan, watching with satisfaction how Flint’s gaze explored his whole figure, lingering on an impressive bulge in his breeches. He winked and walked to the door, turning his back on the threshold, just like he had done today before the attack. This time Flint sat on the edge of his desk, watching John leaving.

“Don’t even think that we’re done here.” John said, pleased to see a corner of Flint’s mouth twitch in involuntary smirk.

“I got no doubt about that.”


	15. Chapter 15

In the morning John went up to the quarterdeck feeling completely knackered. Unsurprisingly, he did not sleep well. Yesterday, in the privacy of his own cabin, he was cursing Flint’s pragmatism, that he solely blamed for sending him away, furiously jerking himself off to the images still vivid in his mind, to the feeling that still lingered on his skin, coming twice in quick succession. Today he was cursing that pragmatism all the same, as it achieved the opposite to what was intended. He felt his body betraying him. After experiencing some fleeting moment with the captain, now he seemed unable to concentrate on anything else, which was ridiculous considering the matters at hand. John wearily ruffled his hair and climbed up the stairs.

Billy and Flint stood at the railing in the far corner, watching the horizon that in some four hours would become land that will make them all rich. They did not notice him approaching and John overheard the end of their conversation.

“-you look me in the eye and tell me that _it’s not there_!” Billy said in an urgent, overly measured tone, with which he tried to conceal his fury, turning his whole body to face Flint, his cheeks were flushed, mouth in a hard line.

“Have you changed _your decision_ then?” Flint said calmly, turning his head and catching Billy’s heated glare.

Billy did not answer straight away, his eyes were searching for something in Flint’s expression. “ _Have you_?” He croaked, licking his lips nervously.

“There’s no point to that discussion.” Flint said with a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head dismissively. In that moment, John felt almost sorry for Billy. The young man seemed so helpless and devastated, staring at Flint intensely for another second, until his lower lip trembled, and he looked away, lifting his broad palm to cover his face. Upon seeing that reaction, Flint’s jaw twitched, and his shoulders tensed.

John had obviously witnessed something extremely personal between those two, but he was glad that he had. After all, he had his own interest in captain’s personal affairs: he would prefer to be his _only_ distraction, at least aboard. Billy’s sudden desire to get back with Flint, and John regarded that scene as such, was a pain in the neck to him.

He waited another moment before announcing his appearance with a nonchalant flair. “Gentlemen, hope I’m not interrupting…”

“Mr. Silver, call Mr. De Groot to join us in my cabin, will you?” Flint ordered abruptly, looking around his shoulder only to see if his command was being carried out immediately. John knew that it was nothing but a decoy: the captain was giving Billy a chance to pull himself together in private The bosun still stood with his back towards John, his hands grasping the railing tightly.

John nodded and silently retreated downstairs, taking his sweet time, he grabbed a bite, joking with Dooley and Logan in the galley, and only then asked De Groot to follow him back to the captain’s cabin. Flint and Billy were sitting opposite each other, some of that visible tension between them subsided. Flint ordered De Groot to recalibrate their course more to the west and the sailing master headed to the helm.

“Now, returning to the subject of _Santa Margarita_ , there were a couple of things that we cannot ignore.” – Flint said, stroking his beard and gesturing John to take a seat – “Their crew.” – He then looked at Billy.

“Thirty-three men with that captain and one officer.” Billy replied, looking at a fixed point on the desk.

“Terribly understaffed for the official convoy, wasn’t she?” – Flint continued – “Another peculiar detail – the absence of a gentleman aboard. It’s unthinkable for a Spanish warship to not have an aristocrat to meddle with its business.”

“I’ve also found that jewelry stash…” – John said, furrowing his brow – “Perhaps there was a mutiny?”

“Very plausible. According to this journal of late captain Ruiz, _Santa Margarita_ was initially under the guidance of one honorable Don de Meiras, with the crew of a hundred and ten men. He had been given a task to bring a couple of high-ranking civilians with their valuable belongings back to Spain, after the completion of the scheduled escort.” – Flint looked them over with an arched brow – “I believe those valuable belongings are now in our possession.”

“They were packed with all sorts of fancy shit.” – Billy said slowly, becoming more engaged – “Boys have found five crates of silver, plenty of vicuna wool, bocote furniture, booze, spices.”

“Safe to assume, that those nobles have met their watery grave. We must have caught the crew fleeing.” – John said with a tilt of his head – “But now they are all dead. Should it be any of our concern though, with _our_ quest in mind?”

“It matters _somewhat_.” – Flint replied pensively – “Their sudden decision to desert the Armada is attributable to the fate that befell _Urca de Lima_. They’ve spotted her wreck. Afterwards Captain Ruiz had not left any more incriminating entries in his journal, but the last one says…”

Flint presented them a page with one hastily scribbled phrase: “ _El oro es maldecido_ ”.

“The gold is cursed.” John proclaimed, glancing at them both carefully.

“Doubloons worth five million, having that much gold is practically asking to _be cursed_.” Billy was mirroring John’s unsure reaction to that rather ominous message.

“I’m skeptical as well. Rather dramatic thing to write in your journal anyway. Obviously, it stays between us.” Flint looked at them meaningfully.

“So, they’ve seen the _Urca_ , the remaining soldiers, the gold scattered around, and then just bailed?” – John said incredulously – “They’ve sworn to protect that gold with their lives. Abandoning the treasure galleon like that – surely it’s high treason.”

“Their motivation remains unclear until we reach the shore and see for ourselves what captain Ruiz meant.” Flint gestured them to follow him out.

***

_1714, Nassau_

“Billy…” James’ voice was hoarse from sleep. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, but he recognized interior of Eleanor’s guest house. Splashing of water and thudding sounds that woke him up came from Billy, who was currently trying to fill up a bathtub in the corner of the room as quiet as possible.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” – Bones said, looking around his shoulder – “But you’ve been asleep for twelve hours already and I figured, you gotta eat and take a bath.” He emptied a bucket and turned around, smiling at him devoutly.

Flint returned his smile and stretched on the bed, feeling pleasant tingling in his well-rested limbs. Yesterday after their last raid he was so incredibly tired, almost collapsing from exhaustion. The _Walrus_ had been caught up in a nasty storm on their way home, and Flint ordered everyone belowdecks, standing alone at the helm, tied to the rudder. Thankfully, he managed to steer them all to safety, but in the end, he felt more like a reanimated corpse. When they had reached Nassau bay, Billy refused to accept Flint’s plan to sleep in his cabin, stating that they had to get away from that goddamned ship and recover. James did not have any energy to argue and, leaving only skeleton crew aboard, let Billy escort him to this cottage that he had been allowed to use whenever he liked.

“Yes, thank you.” – Flint said, turning over and leaning on his elbows – “You’ve had a good rest as well?” He watched Billy quickly taking care of his task, hauling full buckets of water with ease.

“I have, even though I didn’t deserve it.” – Billy’s mouth formed a straight line – “I had nothing to do yesterday apart from cowering in the berth and worrying sick.” – He pointed at a bed-side table – “Please eat something.”

Flint reached out for a papaya without a comment. He could understand where Billy’s feelings were coming from. They were carrying on in silence for a while: the bosun went outside for more water, giving James an opportunity to take the longest piss of his life and eat his fill.

“Ready.” Billy said curtly, adding boiling water in the end, and, judging by his tone, he had managed to further rile himself up thinking about yesterday.

James thanked him again and got into the tub with a satisfied sigh. “Pity it’s not big enough for us both.” He said dreamily, soaking his hair and washing his face.

Billy only snorted quietly but did not reply, picking up a washcloth and standing behind James.

“You don’t have to do that, Billy, I’m perfectly capable-” Flint started, but Billy interrupted him with some annoyance in his voice.

“-I know that you’re _capable_. Let me do _at least that_.” Bones started to massage his back with the soapy cloth, very gently, that contrasted with his tone. Flint only rolled his eyes at that, relaxing into the touch. He could practically sense Billy trying hard to keep his mouth shut, and, surprisingly, the bosun succeeded to hold off at least half an hour until James was done bathing. Flint stood near an open window, enjoying a spectacular view of the bay, while drying himself off.

“Can you tell me _what the fuck_ was-” Billy started exasperatedly, but Flint did not let him finish, turning around to look him in the eye. 

“ _I did what I had to_. I understand how it must have felt like to sit there and just wait, but it was my decision as a captain to steer the ship myself. Partly because I did not wish to put anyone else in harm’s way, but mainly because I knew _I_ _could manage_ that bloody situation.” – Flint said firmly, knitting his brows – “I suppose I had to congratulate you on keeping yourself in line yesterday, as I saw clearly what it took for you to not question my direct orders in front of the men. But even when we’re alone I won’t be tolerating pointless nagging.” James watched Billy averting his eyes and nervously biting his lip, while clutching the edge of the tub as if to steady himself. Seeing that lost expression James paused and then added, his voice much warmer – “It’s all behind us now, we’re safe. No need to fight about this.”

Billy nodded, still looking at his feet. James walked over to him and took his hand, tugging him lightly and placing his palm on the side of Billy’s neck. “I’m sorry that I made you worry, but I can’t promise not to do it again, you know that.” There was another nod, but this time the bosun looked James in the eye.

“I’m sorry. I just thought… you’d not survive that fucking storm.” Billy said quietly, before swiftly closing the distance between them. He held him tightly and James could feel Billy kissing his neck, before burying his face in its crook and breathing in deeply. Flint locked his arms behind Billy and sighed. They stayed like that for some time, until James could feel Bones’ tension ease off.

“Guess I tend to forget that my captain is tough as nails.” Billy muttered shyly.

Flint chuckled and ran his hand up and down Billy’s back. “Do I need to constantly remind you about that then?”

Billy only smiled and gave him a tender kiss. Flint squeezed him tightly, enjoying Billy’s warmth. “You wanna use that bath too?”

The young man quickly stripped off and got into the tub with a sigh of relief. James stood behind him, returning a favor, languidly washing his back and chest.

“Our last haul was profitable enough though.” Billy said after some time, resting the back of his head on James’ stomach.

“Barely.” Flint said dismissively, still caressing Bones’ muscular chest and broad shoulders.

“You still on ‘bout that galleon?” Billy said, looking up at him with one eye open.

“Of course, I am.” – James smiled – “You don’t expect me to hunt sugar merchants till the Royal Navy finally gun me down, do you?”

“It’s our way of living, innit?” Billy replied somewhat cautious. They had discussed that topic before, and it always resulted in a conflict.

“Only if you want it to be.” – Flint said, while watching Bones’ shoulders tense again – “Billy…”

The bosun turned around, looking at him inquisitively. James remembered last times they had been talking about the future. They could not agree on that, no matter how many convincing arguments Flint threw at him.

“How long do you think we can carry on like that? Another couple of years at most, I reckon. How many warships we’ve been spotting recently? Civilization’s coming. We gotta have a second plan: enough gold to actually build something here.” James said, watching Billy knit his brow.

“I’ve told you before, I’d never accept a pardon.” – Billy shook his head resolutely – “Those whoresons took everything from me, enslaved me… How can you expect me to forget it? What kind of man I am to ask for _their forgiveness_? You know that _they_ ’ve made us who we are now.”

“You’re not gonna be doing any asking, it’s only a formality for the sake of that bigger picture. Do you sincerely wish to be an outlaw till the rest of your days?” Flint said, already knowing that this discussion did not bring them any further.

“What else can I do? That’s the only freedom I know.” Billy replied, looking distant.

“Don’t insult your own intelligence, Billy.” James said, huffing out an annoyed breath.

“Well, _what else_ can I do apart from rigging and killing, huh?” – Bones sounded somewhat bitter – “You won’t understand it, but those men in our crew – they are like brothers to me. That’s all I have. I’d never betray our ways: they know it and respect me for that, along with all others sailing black. Where else would _I_ matter?”

“With enough gold and a solid deal for Nassau it won’t matter anymore. You’re mistaken if you believe that you won’t find your place.” – James said wearily, noticing Billy’s stubborn expression – “You’re bright and charismatic, there would be no problem for you to adapt to _any other_ way of life.”

“ _Christ_ , captain…” – Billy uttered, sagging against the tub – “Can we discuss it some other time?”

“Sure.” Flint said, averting his gaze. He did not resent Billy for his reluctance for leaving piracy. James could not coerce him, and he did not expect the bosun to agree with all his plans only because of their affair. However, their gridlock of a situation still got him frustrated, as he knew, that it all could never go on forever.

Billy hurriedly dried himself off and tugged James onto the bed, immediately straddling him and attacking him with his mouth. Flint enjoyed the feeling of that gorgeous body snug against him, so alive and eager, gripping Billy’s hips firmly and lightly biting his lower lip. James tried to banish the thoughts about the future from his mind.

***

In the next two hours the weather had changed dramatically: the _Seahawk_ had to endure a heavy rain with gusts of northern wind that significantly slowed her down. Thick fog that surrounded them afterwards was also not for the faint-hearted, as they got zero visibility and had to reduce their speed and navigate blindly through famously treacherous waters. With coastal reefs and shallow shores in mind, the whole crew was on edge. Even though they followed the orders dutifully and worked in unison, the men were painfully aware of what they all were thinking about. Seafarers, terribly superstitious, considered such weather change a bad omen, so it was not surprising that the mood aboard had been fouled.

John Silver was a practical man, and, even knowing about the last entry in the log from _Santa Margarita,_ was only irritated with their current situation. He looked over his shoulder to locate the captain. Flint stood at the quarterdeck, peering into the milky fog ahead, as if trying to clear it away through sheer will.

A shout from Dooley, who was on the lookout, thundered across the silent deck, spurring everyone into action. Finally, there was land in sight, slowly emerging from the fog. John remembered the coastal line to be rather unspectacular: that sandy beach stretched out for miles, flat terrain with only occasional small hill or ridge, almost nowhere to hide. Silver felt slight panic when he had not immediately spotted the _Urca_. Far and wide, there seemed to be nothing man-made. Silver was not the only one at the railing impatiently scouring the shore.

“ _Where the fuck is she?_ ” John repeated it to himself like a mantra, peering through a spyglass, until he felt his heart skipping a beat. There she was, nothing but a scorched skeleton barely seen from that distance. Silver squinted, observing a beach around it. When their crew had escaped a week ago, there were at least sixty men guarding the treasure. Now, he could not see a soul.

Flint came over to the bow, glued to his spyglass, and barked the orders. They were to drop the anchor within the shooting range and proceed in four rowing boats.

“You think the guards have retreated inland?” John asked, standing at Flint’s side.

“They might have, though…” – Flint answered pensively, chewing on his lower lip – “It all seems off.” – He directed his spyglass to the wreck again – “Burning the remains of the ship was a good idea to conceal its whereabouts from someone like us, but it also made them vulnerable during the actual blaze. And they obviously did not manage to finish the job.”

John regarded Flint’s profile, sharing his focus and excitement. “Am I coming with you?”

“Damn, _‘course_ you are, quartermaster.” Flint momentarily looked at him and winked. Silver smirked, feeling the warmth enveloping his whole body.

In an hour or less, the boats were already approaching the land. Aboard, all the remaining crew was plastered to the railing and available gun ports, watching them rowing. The _Urca_ did not seem that formidable from the safe distance. Now John could see its wreck clearly, even half destroyed by the fire, it was huge, lying like a whale carcass on the beach. Not so far away from it was a camp, surrounded by cannons.

Flint, with his gun ready, was the first one near the wreck, with twenty men on his heels. They were greeted with the view so terrible, that it was sure to haunt their dreams till the rest of their lives.

There was no gold scattered all around in the sand. It was meticulously gathered and packed neatly in the crates, barrels, buckets and sacks, all in a massive heap in the center of the Spanish camp. However, it was not the first thing the _Seahawk_ crew was struck by: it was the stench of decomposition. The corpses were laid out behind the scorched ship: horribly mutilated bodies of, seemingly, not less than a hundred men, all piled up in a giant angular figure on the ground. The cadavers were positioned with great care, as all of them were on their backs with their severed arms crossed on their chests, their distorted faces staring at the sky, none of them had eyes. John felt his blood turning cold.

“God Almighty…” He heard Dorney mutter next to him. Even though they all were living in sin, opposing Christian laws, whoring, thieving and murdering: there was something about this atrocity none of them could wrap their head around.

John had never seen that many dead bodies in his life – he pinched his nose and closed his eyes, fighting off a strong urge to retch. A couple of men including Muldoon and Dooley failed that particular task, bent in half, facing away from the scene.

“Joji, Joshua, Dobbs, check the surroundings. You all, start loading the boats.” Flint ordered abruptly, covering his face with his sleeve and swiftly striding towards the abhorrent site.

They all stood there for a moment, unable to tear their eyes off that devastation, but somewhat regained their composure, after seeing their captain as collected as always. Silver followed his crewmates, grabbed a heavy sack of gold and dragged it towards the boats, all the while peering around his shoulder at the captain. Flint’s investigation seemed to be very thorough, he was walking around the corpses with determination.

“What the hell happened here, John?” – Muldoon asked him, while they both were lifting a big crate– “Haven’t seen anything like it.”

“Me neither. But whoever did this must have come from the interior.” – John said, breathing heavily – “Which means that the sooner we haul that gold aboard the better.”

He looked around, spotting the members of vanguard approaching Flint, who was now examining the camp. They exchanged few words and the captain gestured them to join the others. He took off his leather coat and started carrying the gold himself.

It was obvious, that Flint also felt no need to linger in here. John heard the captain giving rapid orders and joined him in managing their work force: the hefty containers had to be redistributed evenly. With all of them working together, agreeing on leaving this place promptly, soon enough the first boat was filled to its full capacity.

“Four of you, get on with it – unload quickly and return immediately. Tell De Groot to bring her a bit closer. Billy got to be in the crow’s nest. We need those two spare canoes here too with more men.” Flint said, glancing in the direction of the interior with squinted eye.

“Aye!” The men replied in unison, looking serious, immediately following through on their order.

The crew worked tirelessly, not allowing themselves any breaks or idle talks. In about four hours they had taken it all, leaving the place of massacre behind, their arms straining from lifting and rowing, and their feet buried in gold.


	16. Chapter 16

John stretched his back with a loud groan and looked around the busy weather deck. It was a sight he thought he would never see in his life. Containers with gold were everywhere, some of them uncovered, gleaming in the setting sun. Some of the crates and barrels had been transferred to _Seahawk_ ’s hold already, but there was still enormous amount of gold still sitting outside. Silver shook his head in disbelief, it was baffling how they had managed to haul it all aboard in such short time. He barely felt his back, arms and legs now, so tired and strained he was. His crewmates seemed to share his condition, they were uncharacteristically silent and diligent in their tasks.

The _Seahawk_ was already on the move to steer out of the bay, when a sudden cry from the lookout startled everyone present on deck. John’s heart jumped at the thought that mere hours after obtaining the treasure they would have to defend it. He quickly approached the captain, who was standing at the bridge, giving directions to the helmsman.

“What is it now?” John quickly asked.

“It’s the _Walrus_.” – Flint answered, looking through his spyglass – “She’s washed up on the shore, just behind that cliff.”

“I was unaware that we were going to salvage her…” Silver said, furrowing his brow.

“Sailing master and I are going to inspect her now and decide if there’s something to be done.” – Flint said, rubbing his neck – “The next convoy is currently expecting the galleon in Havana. Since we’ve taken out the _Santa Margarita_ with her supplies, we can afford another day of repairs, if needed.”

“What about the…” John gestured to the beach anxiously.

“I know, we gotta stay alert. We lay anchor beyond _their_ reach tonight.” Flint said with a slight twitch of his jaw.

“I’ll tell the men.” John nodded and set off. They did not discuss that merciless menace yet, but Silver figured, that the captain was going to share his thoughts with him afterwards.

Flint, De Groot and six more men spent an hour at the wreck, while John busied himself with the rest of their crew. They were far from triumphant, the mood aboard was tense, fate of Spanish soldiers was now known to everyone. There was that murmur, indicating that they all had their own theories of what had happened with the convoy. John did his best to eradicate any speculations of supernatural origin. When the captain returned from his inspection, he could clearly see crew’s need for reassurance.

“Gentlemen, considerable weight of that gold hinders us to move with appropriate speed. Fortunately, we can easily obtain the second ship, the one we’re familiar with.” – Flint addressed everyone – “The _Walrus_ is in the better condition than expected. We’re gonna start repairs at dawn and be able to get her ready to sail in the afternoon, if our newly recruited carpenters prove their worth.” – He looked around himself, crew’s full attention on him – “We remain anchored here with four changings of the watch. For now, we’re safe, get a good rest.”

With that, he turned around and headed to his cabin, gesturing Silver and Bones to follow.

“Is it true what the men been telling?” Billy asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“One hundred and forty men had been slaughtered out there, in the cruelest fashion.” Flint said, pouring himself a mug of water. He rubbed his eyes and slumped into his chair. John was almost as tired as the captain was, but he still thought that he would gladly offer Flint any kind of relaxation if he asked for it.

“That many?!” Billy cried out, his expression shocked.

“Some corpses were fresher than others. Among them were our two scouts.” – Flint said, scrunching his nose – “My best guess, the savages of some native tribe are responsible for it. The way they laid out the bodies seem like some kind of ritual.”

“Tequesta?” John asked, reminding himself of the day on that very same beach, when he thought he and Flint were going to make a run to St. Augustine.

“Well, they are not particularly hospitable towards outsiders, giving that we’re trotting around on their land, but I’ve never heard of them indulging in atrocities of such a scale before. Perhaps some clan of drifters, who the fuck knows…” – Flint said, looking over both of them – “It certainly explains why the gold was left untouched: they either don’t trade with it at all or they could not afford transporting it.”

“The men are saying all sorts of shit.” Billy said, chewing on his lip.

“Discourage them. We need them focused. None of that curse nonsense. It was a very unfortunate course of events, that’s it. As soon as we get the _Walrus_ ready, we’re leaving it all behind.” Flint replied sternly.

“You think those savages gonna be back?” John asked, watching the captain frown. He suddenly felt very protective of him, which was of course laughable, Flint could take care of himself tenfold better. However, Silver still wanted to embrace him, ensuring he could sleep peacefully.

“Even if they do, they can’t do shit to us when we’re aboard. Though tomorrow we’re gonna have to be permanently alert. Now, both of you, figure out the lookouts and get rested.”

***

The night flew by and at dawn, just like the captain said, the men ventured to work. It seemed that the carpenters felt obligated to prove their worth, and they were indeed ready before the high tide, which pleased them all tremendously. The good spirits were coming back, even though most of them still gazed towards the interior anxiously.

John was sitting in the crow’s nest observing the crew towing the Walrus into the water. The coast was blissfully clear, so he allowed himself to think about the incident in Flint’s cabin two days ago. He did not bother the captain last night, as they both were knackered. However, now that they were apparently done here, John could not help but daydream about their next encounter.

Using myriad of hooks and levers, the excessive gold was transferred to the _Walrus_ , along with some supplies needed for the part of the crew. Flint decided to put Billy in charge of the consort, which was understandable, but still unusual, as in most cases it was a task of the quartermaster to take such responsibility. However, John was practically rubbing his hands together because he had no inclination to play the captain. Above all, he wanted to be _with_ _the captain_ on their journey back to Nassau.

The sun had just began to set when they were ready to sail, two ships leaving the wretched coast behind.

***

It was past three bells of the first watch, when John entered the captain’s cabin. Flint was sitting in his chair, turned half-way to the window, peacefully reading a book. His simple black shirt was half undone, his apparently freshly washed hair shone in the light. Without his elaborate coat, belts and weapons, he should have looked less formidable, less significant, maybe more vulnerable but that was not the case. John found him stunning. Flint looked so elegant and refined, unlike anyone Silver had ever met before. That air of confidence that surrounded him at all time: John was drawn like a moth to the flame.

“I expected, you’d be neck-deep in your sea charts. Now that we have that heavy weight to secure.” John said with an easy smile, walking across the cabin. Flint looked up and returned his smile, making Silver hold his breath for a bit. The memories of their last tête-à-tête in here came rushing back and John realized that he was going to do a pretty shoddy job at concealing his excitement.

“I’ve been researching the points of interest for a while and planned our current route a week ago, Mr. Silver. You underestimate me.”

“ _Never_ , captain” John said sincerely, he felt like that man would always find a way to impress him. Of course, John could not expect Flint to not have a steady plan, competence being his defining character trait. Silver gave the captain a cheeky smile and then gestured to the ornate glasses on the table. “Is one of those for me?”

“It is. Would you do the honors?” Flint answered with a grin and closed his book, calmly watching John pouring down the drinks.

They raised their glasses, exchanging wicked grins. _They have bloody done it;_ the first phase of the grand plan was over. Though for John it only meant one thing: he could finally get to feel Flint again. His fevered mind was only now starting to grasp the reality of the current situation. They were alone at last. He came to the cabin with one particular goal in mind and they both knew what it was. Flint had practically promised him continuation, but John feared that he had changed his mind, might have cooked up some compelling argument to reject him again. John took a big sip of his port, trying to calm down his nerves.

“But where are my manners?” – Flint said, after enjoying a hefty swig of his own – “Please, take a seat.”

John looked around his shoulder, and took a step towards the remaining chair, but was interrupted by Flint.

“No.” – Flint said softly, his smile got wider as he pointed to the edge of the desk near him with his chin – “Here.” He smoothed the surface with his palm in an inviting gesture.

John looked at him with his mouth half open, sensing all his blood rushing up to his cheeks. That curling sensation in his stomach was back. He walked around the table, painfully aware of Flint’s proximity. He sat down on the desk and quickly finished his drink. He could smell scented oils that Flint had probably used for his immaculate beard. John closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, saving that moment in his memory.

Flint tilted his head back, watching him carefully, studying him, his features soft in the candlelight. John held his gaze unfaltering, allowing a reassuring smile to appear on his face, as he was certain about his desire and wanted Flint to see it. He sat up further back, more comfortable and open. The captain placed his glass on the windowsill and moved slowly to stand between John’s legs. Flint leaned forward lingeringly, placing his palms on the table near John’s hips, successfully trapping him without even touching. He stopped when their faces were mere inches apart.

John’s breath quickened, there was the best sort of titillating tension between them: he could not bear it, yet he did not want it to stop. He licked his lips, lost in the green of captain’s eyes. Flint gave him another careful look, and then very slowly, as if giving John a chance to break free, finally closed the distance between them.

When John was imagining himself kissing Flint for the first time, he pictured hot glorious rush, passionate attack with brutal force. However, he was not prepared for that slow sensual slide of Flint’s lips against his own, so unhurried and all-encompassing. John had rarely experienced kisses that tender, that meaningful with any of his former lovers. Flint’s tongue traced his upper lip, before advancing into his mouth. John could only return every kiss he was given with same intensity, moaning in delight. He was so stunned by the delicate way Flint was kissing him for the first time, that it took him a while to realize that he could also _touch_.

John reached out to cup Flint’s face in his hands, stroking that ginger beard with his thumbs. The captain tasted like port and, like last time, smelled of clean skin, citrus and coconut. John ran his fingers through Flint’s wet hair and pulled himself closer, wrapping his legs around Flint’s waist. The captain exhaled a deep breath, and John could feel him smile. He would be smiling too, if he were not so concentrated on his objective of ridding the man of his shirt, without breaking the kiss, while simultaneously being plastered to his front. He was already aroused to the point of becoming frantic.

“No need to be so hasty, John.” Flint said with a smirk, after Silver whipped off his shirt and started to work on his belt, which was being awfully uncooperative.

“Easy for you to say!” – John blurted out, unable to decide between looking at Flint’s gorgeous torso from a new perspective, touching it with his greedy hands and kissing him, as he wanted to do it all at the same time – “ _I can’t fucking wait anymore_.”

Flint huffed out a laugh and caught his eye. His lips looked tender, he was flushed, and, due to John’s ministration, disheveled. Nevertheless, far more collected than John must have looked. He took John’s shirt off unhurriedly, brushing the stray curls away from John’s face afterwards. Silver reveled in this attention, while trying to control his breathing and devouring the captain with his hungry gaze. Flint eyed John’s chest and stomach with a satisfied smirk and ran his palms over Silver’s shoulders and sides, rumbling approvingly. John felt like he was being appraised.

“Up to your standards?” Silver teased, tilting his head back and baring his teeth, all the while stroking Flint’s broad chest with his palms.

“What do you think?” Flint said, rolling his hips. John could feel every inch of his hard cock straining the front of his trousers.

Silver knew that captain’s question was rhetorical, but he could not help but answer. “It feels _fucking fantastic_.”

Flint only chuckled and kissed him again, this time with more gusto. Working his hips up in a stuttering rhythm, John was shamelessly rubbing his groin against captain’s, his hands never leaving Flint’s smooth skin. There were nights when he had imagined how he would seduce the captain, holding himself back intricately, taking his pleasure from Flint without seeming that eager. Well, that fine strategy was out of question now. Silver was moaning, panting and rutting like a man possessed, and he did not care one bit.

“Let’s see what you got there.” – Flint said quietly against his ear, before taking John’s stiff leaking cock out of his pants and stroking it up and down gently – “Hmm, _lovely_.” He assessed with another approving sigh, tugging on John’s earlobe with his teeth, while simultaneously grasping his cock at the base.

“ _It’s bloody happening, he’s doing it with me, he’s really saying it._ ” John repeated to himself, his mouth falling open at the amazing feeling. He could only operate with fragments of thoughts at the moment, angling his hips to urge Flint to move. The captain, still holding John’s cock with that tight grip, moved his other hand to John’s face, touching his swollen lips with his thumb, and then further down his neck and chest, so slow like they had all time in the world. It was absolutely torturous.

“ _Fuck, you’re_ …” – John breathed out hoarsely, gasping when Flint’s nimble fingers stroked the head of his cock lightly – “You’re gonna drive me _insane_ if you keep doing it.” – He added with a wild smile – “Though I’m not complaining.”

“Would you like me to do something in particular?” Flint asked with that devilish half-smile John liked so much.

“Off with that.” – Silver said, impatiently tugging captain’s trousers down – “Wanna see you.”

Flint complied with that request, but still unhurriedly, sporting a daring smirk while watching John’s face light up at the sight of the most delectable cock bared in front of him. It was so thick, long and veiny, that it made Silver’s mouth water. He thought to himself, that with such an outstanding member like Flint’s, it must be a breeze to exude confidence.

“Up to _your_ standards?” Flint asked humorously, as John eagerly wrapped his fingers around his length.

Instead of answering such ridiculous question, John placed his left hand on the back of Flint’s neck to pull him forward and capture his lips in a heated kiss, while stroking his cock with his right. They moaned in unison, both setting a slow rhythm of their hands.

John’s mind had gone blissfully blank, nothing but sensations reigned over his whole being. Feeling the solidity of Flint’s body close to him, unbelievable smoothness of his skin, breathing in deeply his pleasant scent, seeing that ruggedly handsome face right in front of him: it all was enough to make John moan and pant uncontrollably. But the skillful work of Flint’s hands, his clever tongue, his kisses passionate, sensual and perfect, that was what truly got him to come undone.

John felt that fierce need to touch, like he was being held in captivity with no human contact for years. He desperately wanted Flint to take him apart.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” John whispered, leaving open mouthed kisses all over Flint’s neck, delighted to hear the captain moan.

“There’s a time and a place, John.” – Flint said in a raspy voice, catching his eye – “Don’t fret, we’ll get to it.” His tone was promising, tempting, and Silver smiled, realizing that this was not going to be their last time together.

Flint, still maintaining eye contact, licked his palm and wrapped it around both their cocks, pressing them together. John did the same and gasped at that sensation. The undersides of their shafts were rubbing against each other, slick and hot. The rhythm and tension were perfect, Silver moaned into every kiss, feeling his building pleasure so viscerally.

“I’m almost…” John stuttered, shivering and panting.

“Yeah, so am I.” Flint said quietly in a deep voice, that made Silver shudder even more and come all over their fists.

He cried out in pleasure, throwing his head back and feeling Flint sucking on that tender spot on his neck. With another couple of strokes Flint followed him and John was delighted at the warmth of his release on his hand.

They remained in the same position for some time, trying to catch a breath. The captain lifted his head from John’s shoulders and looked at him with some new expression on his flushed face. He then smiled lazily and kissed John again, eliciting an approving moan from him.

Silver was in awe of that face, of that man, of the way he made him feel. He could not remember another time when he was so fulfilled after merely jerking somebody off. Even hours of vigorous fucking had not felt that gratifying. All of his previous sexual encounters paled in comparison to what they had just done. Silver could only conclude that this was due to the fact that for the first time in his life he had been with a person he was genuinely and deeply attracted to.

John kissed him again and again, relishing in exquisite feeling of their tongues touching. Flint nipped at his bottom lip one last time before reaching for a handkerchief, using it to wipe the mess off their hands.

“So, what did I tell you?” – John said teasingly – “ _Brilliant idea_ , innit?”

“Credit where credit is due.” Flint chuckled, stroking John’s jaw with his thumb.

John wanted to reply to it, but felt suddenly at loss of words, reveling in the newly found intimacy between them. He could not get over the fact that it was Flint, in flesh and blood, touching him so tenderly and regarding him so warmly.

“Captain…” He started, but then cut himself off and, still naked, with his legs wrapped around Flint’s hips, embraced him tightly, unable to suppress that urge. When he felt Flint’s hands on his back, holding him close, John thought that he was the luckiest bastard alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! One eternity and over 50.000 words later. Leave a comment if you liked it, and if you didn't - still leave a comment, so I can improve it! ;)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively prompt update for all of you lovely people reading my fic!

“…John!”

Silver nearly jumped when that sudden cry pulled him out of his daydreaming. He was sitting in the galley, recounting last night’s events and smiling to himself, and did not even notice Muldoon standing right in front of him with a wide grin, obviously pleased to have him startled.

“Picturing all those nice things you gonna buy with your share, quartermaster?” – Muldoon chuckled and sat opposite him – “I know I’ve dreamt about it all night long.”

John smiled and downed his mug. He had left the captain’s cabin around midnight, and slept all night through, his dreams filled with Flint and their encounter. This morning he woke up rock hard, feeling like the world was his for the taking. The fact that his share of fortune was securely in the hold was a delightful bonus, but he was genuinely surprised with himself how unaffected by it he truly was.

“And what did you figure out?” John asked Muldoon conversationally. Of all the men in their crew Silver got to know the gunner the most and they took a liking to each other.

“First of all, I’m getting drunk on the best rum they serve in Nassau, _then_ I’m celebrating our success in the sheets with some nice plump wench, _and then_ …” – Muldoon faltered, momentarily becoming unsure – “I don’t know, it’s just an idea…”

“Come on, Patrick, spit it out! Or is it _that lewd_?” John laughed, watching the gunner squirm.

“No, but I thought…you know, now that I have the gold, it would be nice to leave it all behind, find some quiet place of my own, start a family.” – Muldoon gave him a sideway glance, as if expecting John to taunt him – “That’s what I’ve been dreaming about as a lad anyway.” He said dismissively, scratched his bald head and started eating his meal.

“It’s pretty similar to mine: I’d buy a house of my own and never set foot on a ship ever again.” John said nonchalantly, regarding the gunner warmly.

“Really?” – Muldoon beamed at him – “You think that would suit us?”

“No doubts. You can always pick up fishing if you ever hear the call of sea. Or buy another horse if you feel the need for a thrill.” – John said with a smirk – “But I know for sure, that the best thing in this world is to be your own master: no relying on wages, no risking your skin for someone’s agenda.”

Muldoon regarded him pensively and nodded. John recognized an opportunity clearly as soon as he saw that thoughtful wrinkle on gunner’s forehead.

“I presume, there are others in our crew, who would want to finish their careers after this haul, eh?” – John smiled, seeing Muldoon nodding again – “Let them know that captain Flint’s got a plan, and they should seek me out.”

“I will.” Muldoon smiled shyly, there was that spark of hope in his eyes.

John reached out to pick some fruit from the bowl in front of him and looked up just in time to see Flint entering the galley. The captain was wearing the same black shirt he had on yesterday, with sleeves rolled up, and dark breeches that fitted so snugly, John could see muscle definition of his powerful thighs; and that substantial bulge between his legs demanded attention as well. When Silver finally tore his gaze from that glorious body and looked up, he saw that Flint not only caught him staring, but seemed to have read John’s unpure thoughts. The corner of his mouth curled, he walked over to their table and sat near Silver.

“Morning.” Flint said, politely nodding to him and Muldoon.

“Best of the morning, captain.” – John replied with a grin, noticing how Muldoon nodded and became tense in captain’s presence – “Patrick and I were just discussing our readiness to leave piracy behind.”

“Really?” – Flint arched his brow and looked at the squirming gunner – “That’s great news for us, Mr. Muldoon, we’re gonna need able seamen like you during our last run, if you’d wish to stick around a bit longer.”

Muldoon was obviously dumbfounded by Flint’s benevolence, he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before blurting out, “Last run?”

“The plan is to reach Brazil and exchange biggest part of our shares for any other monetary means available. Thus, we will benefit from strained relations between Spain and Portugal, cutting ties with stolen gold for good.” Flint explained conversationally, eating his breakfast.

John looked at his profile, feelings his closeness viscerally. “That would guarantee your peaceful retirement, you see. To everyone else you’re gonna be just a fortunate chap with pockets full of pearls and whatnot.” He said, seeing that Muldoon was clearly sold on the idea, now that he heard captain’s opinion.

“Aye, I’ll talk to the lads.” He said, standing up and looking at Flint again with sheepish half-smile, he nodded awkwardly and set off upstairs.

Silver nudged Flint lightly with his elbow and his grin grew wider when he saw Flint smirking in return. “Well, you didn’t say it, but we’d hardly benefit from leaving the whole crew to drink their fortunes away in Nassau.”

“Nothing escapes you, Mr. Silver.” Flint uttered and finished his meal with a hefty swig of ale, as Silver watched him hungrily. John spotted a tiny mark behind Flint’s ear that he had left yesterday, and it made him all excited again.

“Logan!” – He got up and addressed the man sitting next to them, pleased to see him stand to attention straight away – “Make sure that everyone on deck knows what to do – captain and I gotta check the hold once more.”

Flint did not bat an eye and followed him without a word. John grabbed two lamps on the way, hearing captain’s steps behind him, giddy anticipation enveloping him. Only when they were belowdecks and entered the storage, filled with gold crates, Flint said, “I wasn’t aware there was something to be checked in here.” His tone was light and teasing.

John hanged the lamps on the beams and turned around, gazing at Flint who was leaning against the closed door, his eyes glowed in the soft light. Silver crossed the space between them, wrapped his arms around Flint’s waist and kissed him with enough fire to burn the whole ship. He moaned loudly when the captain returned the kiss with same vigor and buried his fingers in John’s hair.

“Highly symbolic, but I want to suck your cock while you’re sitting on that gold.” – John said, opening Flint’s shirt to run his palms over those delicious pectorals – “I’ve been thinking about it _the whole time_.”

“You make it impossible to decline.” Flint replied with a grin and kissed him again.

John felt the need jolting his stomach, making his cock rock hard again. He tugged Flint towards an enormous open crate and, when the captain sat down, sank to his knees in front of him, opening his breeches with shaky hands. John had been craving Flint’s cock in his mouth since the first time he dreamt of him at night. He had rarely done it and only with the most pleasing partners, who were ever so scarce. After getting his hands on captain’s outstanding member yesterday, John knew that _he_ himself was definitely going to enjoy pleasuring Flint with his mouth. However, he suddenly became very anxious about his skill, as he strived to make it as best as he could, reminding himself how the captain looked like when Ned Low was on his knees before him. Picturing Billy, with his huge eyes full of lust and wet lips open, did not help either. John knew it was irrational, but he could not bear the idea of being compared to others and be deemed worse.

Flint saw him faltering and cupped his face with his right palm. “You don’t have to do this, John.” He said, watching him attentively.

“ _No,_ _I want to!_ ” – Silver said and after momentary hesitation blurted out – “But it’s been a while, and I’m not sure how my manner…” He looked at Flint, unable to finish his answer, hoping Flint would understand his implication.

“If _you_ are going to do that, John, I’m sure it’s gonna be great.” Flint said simply, winking at him and gently stroking Silver’s bottom lip with his thumb.

Unaccustomed to such tenderness between men, Silver could not help but reach out to kiss him again with a sigh of relief. The captain intertwined their tongues, making a beautiful sound at the back of his throat. Feeling encouraged, John took Flint’s cock out and felt the girth of it.

He sat back on his knees and admired the view before him. With his open shirt still hanging loosely on his shoulders, his legs spread widely, and that solid cock standing proudly, the captain looked amazing. Flint was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly open, and when their eyes met, John shuddered and neared his face to Flint’s groin.

He traced the head with the tip of his tongue experimentally, hearing Flint huffing out a breath. Tilting his own head to the side, John licked down the underside of the shaft and up again, closing his lips around it. Being even more encouraged by Flint sighs and quiet moans, he finally let go and started fully enjoying his task. He was combining licking, sucking and teasing, relishing Flint’s hardness, his taste and smell, that turned him on even more. John wrapped his right hand around the base, while caressing Flint’s balls with the other. The lewd thought that he would gladly suck that cock till the rest of days, if only given such opportunity, only spurred him on and he moaned around it, bobbing his head up and down languidly with his eyes closed.

“Hmm, bloody great.” Flint said quietly and groaned when John twirled his tongue enthusiastically around the tip. The captain placed his hand on the back of John’s head, caressing his scalp in circular motion.

“You can grab my hair of you want.” John whispered before tracing a vein on the side of that thick shaft with his tongue. Flint did so, but ever so carefully, without pulling, only holding the black mass of curls firmly.

John felt hot all over, his own leaking cock was throbbing against the confinement of his trousers. He pressed on his crotch with his hand and moaned even louder, feeling Flint’s cock twitching in his mouth.

“Touch yourself, let me see…” Flint said in a raspy voice that brought John even higher.

He unlaced his trousers rapidly and took his cock out, working it with his left palm to the rhythm of his other hand on Flint. They moaned in unison now and John could sense shivers down his spine. Again, he had that feeling like it was not merely physical act, he was so overwhelmed by it. Their mutual moaning and panting, along with wet sounds his mouth was making, was like music to his ears.

“ _You look so fucking good_.” Flint said, gasping, now holding John’s hair away from his face with both hands.

John looked up at him with hazy eyes, not interrupting his ministrations. “ _Have you seen_ _yourself?_ ” He thought, basking in the view and picking up a steady rhythm. That was intense and John could feel intuitively that they both were very close.

“ _John_ , _I’m coming_.” Flint groaned after a while and moved his hands away from Silver’s head, allowing him to lean away. However, John was having none of it, craving to feel Flint’s release.

He doubled his efforts and soon enough felt the tremor of Flint’s legs right before that thick cock erupted in his mouth. He swallowed around it eagerly and reached his own orgasm immediately after. John slumped between Flint’s thighs, placing his face on captain’s stomach, trying to catch a breath.

They were both panting and shivering. Silver sighed, completely satisfied, but then Flint reached for him and tugged him up. He kissed John unhurriedly, completely unbothered by his own taste between them.

“You’ve got an exceptionally talented mouth, Mr. Silver, by all accounts.” Flint said, nipping at a sensitive spot behind John’s ear.

“I feel like I require a bit of practice though…” John huffed out a laugh, running his hands over the hard expanse of Flint’s chest.

“You’re gonna spoil me.” Flint said, capturing his mouth again in a searing kiss.

***

John spent the rest of the day in a daze. He had been extremely efficient on deck and made a good progress in persuading more men to follow them to South America. However, his thoughts were constantly straying to the captain and their encounters. When they were leaving the hold, Flint put his hand on the small of John’s back and told him to come to his cabin in the evening after three bells. He then winked at him and set off to the quarterdeck.

Two ships were in accord: the _Walrus_ had been merely patched up after the storm, so their speed was even. Flint exchanged signals with Billy standing at the bridge. The bosun had everything under control. Aboard the _Walrus_ , Mr. Scott was working tirelessly in the hold, preparing the benefactors’ shares they owed in Nassau.

They had been apparently blessed with another smooth run. There was not much to do: the weather was great and there were no ships in sight. So, John was left to impatiently count hours before he could sneak to the captain’s cabin.

After finishing his watch and grabbing a bite in the galley, John got back to his own cabin to freshen up. He realized that he was humming a jolly tune while washing himself all over with a soapy cloth. He was still vocalizing chewing on a miswak and putting on fresh clothes. He threw himself on his bunk, closed his eyes and relaxed with a wide smile: he was way too giddy, but he could not help it. 

***

John entered the cabin after knocking two times impatiently. His blood was running hot for the past couple of hours and he was on edge the whole day. The promise in captain’s voice intrigued him and his hands were already itching to touch him.

Flint was standing near the bed, taking off his belt. He raised his head and smiled at him cunningly, throwing the belt on a dresser, and then whipping his shirt off. He then kicked off his boots and started on a lacing of his trousers. John knew that he must have looked ridiculous, standing at the door and staring with his mouth agape, dumbfounded by such unashamed presentation. He swallowed loudly and started stripping off his clothes on his way to the bed.

Flint caught John’s gaze and bared his teeth in another blinding smile, reaching out to help him undress completely. John in return pushed captain’s trousers down, licking his lips in anticipation. The captain sat down on a comfortable bedding and tugged him by the hand to straddle his lap, running his palms from John’s hips to his shoulder blades, all in one smooth motion.

Silver’s breath stuttered and he felt hot jolts in his groin when he observed his position: with their lower bodies pressed together, and naked Flint under him, he could not suppress a triumphant smile. The captain put his hand on the back of his neck and captured John’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling him closer and simultaneously grinding his hips up. It made Silver gasp and he held on to Flint’s shoulders tighter, moving his hips to prolong that amazing friction. Flint’s tongue plunged into John’s mouth, that kiss was wet and filthy, and Silver never wanted it to end. He lost track of time, thanking all gods that Flint and he were on the same page reveling in those passionate kisses so much.

Silver gasped again when Flint dexterously rolled them over and laid John on the bed, settling between his open legs. He sat back, obviously enjoying the view and met John’s eyes, eliciting a moan from him. Silver was too turned on to stay still, bit his lip and arched his back in an attempt to draw captain’s attention to his throbbing cock.

Flint moved to lean over him on his arms and almost purred in his ear, “I like it when you’re _so_ eager.” He kissed John’s neck, slowly advancing to his chest, licking both of his nipples and gently blowing on them. Silver groaned and pushed himself forward, craving to be plastered to the man.

“… _all the things I’m gonna do to you, hmmm_ …” Flint’s quiet voice was all velvet, and Silver could not hold back his keen moans. Flint was taking him apart only by caressing his torso, purposefully avoiding his cock, and John felt like he was going to lose his mind.

“Captain…” He rasped, not recognizing his own voice. Flint interrupted his caresses to look him in the eye. He must have seen something extraordinary there, because he smirked and licked his lips, spreading John’s thighs further and holding him in place with his strong hands.

In a moment, his mouth enveloped John’s cock and Silver could not think of anything else: just this heat and tantalizing tongue, working him in a languid mind-blowing rhythm. It seemed that Flint was rightly confident in his skill because he was sucking his cock expertly, and, more importantly, with great enthusiasm. Silver lifted his head to look down his body and moaned at the sight of the captain on his knees above him. He watched his cock disappearing in Flint’s mouth, shiny from his saliva. John could not remember if he had ever been blown that good before, his toes curled and his whole body was straining while chasing that pleasure.

Flint’s right hand caressed his balls and snaked down to his perineum, brushing sensitive skin lightly. That had been enough to make John cry out and shudder, he felt his orgasm approaching, placing one shaky hand on Flint’s head and grabbing the sheets tightly with the other.

The captain did something with his tongue that Silver could not register – he was coming violently, and with Flint not easing off, felt the second orgasm, which shook him to his core.

“ _Fuck, captain!_ ” – John cried, Flint swallowing around him – “ _Bloody hell, fuck, holy…_ ” Silver let another string of expletives fly, gasping for air.

The captain moved, sliding his body along John’s in the process, and hovered over him, smiling smugly. John reached out to cup his face, brought himself closer, still trembling, and kissed him hotly. However, after coming so hard he felt weak and collapsed on the bed again with a long, satisfied sigh, pulling Flint over himself. He embraced him tightly, enjoying his weight on him.

“You alright?” Flint asked, burying his fingers in John’s hair.

“Better than ever.” – Silver sighed again and turned his face to leave a trail of kisses on captain’s jaw – “May I return the favor?” He let his hands travel down Flint’s body, John felt his hardness against his hip.

“Maybe later. Don’t worry about it, relax.” Flint chuckled and rolled over on his back, John immediately turned on his side, swinging his leg over captain’s thigh and pressing his face to his shoulder. They lay like that for a while, lazily stroking each other with fingertips, until Flint’s soft breathing lulled John to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I've never written smut before? I'm struggling a bit to make it right. What do you think?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smutty scene in the beginning was inspired by one very hot and very NSWF gif. Apart from that - we're still getting somewhere, plotwise.

For John Silver this morning had started wonderfully: even before opening his eyes he felt all of Flint lying next to him. The captain was outstretched on his stomach, hugging his pillow, with John glued to his back. Silver silently propped himself on his elbow to watch Flint sleep so peacefully with him in his bed. It was a terrific feeling to be holding captain’s confidence to such extent.

After a while John reluctantly got out of bed and headed to the washing basin. He had tried to freshen up as quiet as possible, but his efforts were in vain. Just as he was wiping a cloth over his nether regions, simultaneously chewing on miswak, he heard captain’s approving rumbling.

He was on his back now with his hands on the nape of his neck, stretched out and relaxed, watching John with a slight smile and his eyes half shut. Flint’s cock was already semi-hard, and John immediately felt his own cock twitching in interest as soon as he laid eyes upon it.

“Good morning.” John said softly, smiling at him.

“What a view to start the day with.” Flint replied slowly, his gaze lingering on John’s cock – “‘Tis one _marvelous_ morning, John.”

“I can say the same.” Silver grinned, quickly finishing his washing-up, still staring at Flint’s body.

Flint got out of bed dexterously and headed to him, all while stretching his lithe muscles. He stood next to John, his left hand casually caressing the small of John’s back. Flint reached out for another miswak with his right hand and began brushing his teeth. Silver was watching him relishing that comfortable intimacy between them, that he had never shared with anyone else before. He found that addictive. He lingered, stroking Flint’s shoulders with his greedy hands, but then reluctantly stepped back allowing the captain to complete his morning routine. John got into the bed enjoying the view of nude Flint instead: his broad toned back, prominent waist, perfect curve of his arse and long legs with thick cords of muscles.

When Flint was finished, he walked over to the cabinet and filled the chalice with ale. He sipped from it on his way to the bed, and then gave it to John. Silver gladly accepted and quenched his thirst with Flint standing close above him. The captain put the empty cup away, reaching for a small jar on the bedside table, and then placed his knee between John’s open legs, straddling his right thigh.

John licked his lips and reached out for him. They kissed slowly and generously, exploring every part of each other’s mouths. Flint could make John’s blood boil in no time, so soon enough Silver was grunting and arching up, trying to pull Flint even closer. However, the captain did not budge, leaning back with a grin. He opened up that jar and scooped a good measure of coconut oil on his palm, that melted immediately, and then slicked their pricks with it. He put back the jar and looked John in the eyes with another cocky smirk. Silver huffed out a laugh, laying back on that soft bed and enjoying the feeling of slick pressure of captain’s hand enveloping them both gently, and that nice smell in the air, of coconut and Flint’s skin. John was getting used to such pleasures very quickly. He licked his lips in anticipation and moaned softly when Flint finally started to move his hand.

That smooth friction felt fantastic and John could not hold back his moans and sighs. Flint tilted his head back, breathing through his half open mouth, he put his other hand on John’s hip, showing him how he wanted him to move.

“Yeah, just like that.” Flint said quietly, running his palm over flexing muscles of Silver’s torso, his low voice getting John even more aroused.

Silver was immediately caught up in that rolling circular motions of his pelvis. They rubbed against each other in a sensual rhythm, Flint’s hand attentive on them both, stroking just right. John liked Flint towering over him, he loved captain’s ever-present hypnotic gaze that John felt viscerally. And he wanted Flint to know how bloody great he made him feel.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s so good…I could do this _for hours_.” Silver stuttered roughly with a breathless laugh.

Flint only smiled and leaned to kiss him again. They frotted against each other, unhurriedly chasing mutual release, more and more heat building up between them. The underside of John’s cock and its sensitive head were sliding against Flint’s hard length perfectly. John felt his balls tensing and looked down to fully appreciate what they were doing.

John moaned, his hips and feet twitching, when his cock started splashing enormous amount of cum on his stomach and over Flint’s fist. The captain was sliding against him, using the fluid to slick himself further. Silver was hypnotized by the work of his hands, still shuddering from his release. At the last moment, Flint took himself in his fist and leaned a bit back to come all over John’s still erect cock. Silver did not know why he found that so extremely arousing, and he moaned, stroking himself with Flint’s cum.

The captain sighed heavily and swiftly lowered himself to lay down on his side, closing his eyes. John immediately turned his head towards him and chuckled, lightly stroking Flint’s temple with his clean hand.

“Tired already?” He teased a bit, still trying to catch his own breath.

“Just give me a moment.” Flint’s tone was light, his smile satisfied.

“I still gotta suck your cock, remember?” John turned on his side too, facing Flint and grinning at him conspiratorially.

“Oh, you’re going to, don’t worry.” Flint’s answer was very promising.

Flint was truthful: he was reinvigorated in a surprisingly short period of time. So, soon enough Silver savored the feeling of captain’s cock punishing the back of his throat again. Each of them came once more before reluctantly getting ready for their duties on deck and joining the crew without raising any suspicions.

***

Silver felt like finally getting his hands on Flint did wonders for his overall mood and focus. It gave him certain clarity and added some great flair to his everyday life. He had not felt that energetic and so, well, happy in a long time. Others noticed that too, judging by how successful he was in swaying crew’s stance on how the things were to progress after the gold was paid.

The only downside of it was that every time he was being summoned in captain’s cabin, he had to battle with himself, quelling his greedy arousal. He could not stop thinking about all those exciting and obscene things they have done here and were yet to do. John did not know for sure why Flint delayed fucking him, as John was ready and eager from the very first time, but damn if he ever dared to complain: the captain kept him well satisfied with his skillful hands and incredible mouth. Besides, Silver knew it was only a matter of time – Flint literally promised him that.

John cursed when he realized that his mind got back to those arousing thoughts. He changed his sitting position and tried to listen to Logan’s report with neutral expression. They were going to reach Nassau in two days and Flint wanted the crew to be ready and sorted.

“Thank you, Mr. Logan, you may return to your duties. Mr. Silver and I are going to address the crew in the afternoon.” Flint said, dismissing the armorer with a curt nod.

Silver looked around his shoulder to make sure that the door was closed. He slumped further in his chair, giving Flint a cheeky grin and licking his lips.

“Don’t even think about it.” Flint said, momentarily catching his gaze and getting back to the documents on his desk, nevertheless smirking. John liked this side of Flint too: the captain clearly drew the line, but with good humour. Silver respected that.

“Yes, business first.” John said, nodding his head with overexaggerated seriousness, at the same time raking through his hair languidly.

“Exactly. Now, do you mind sharing your thoughts on the matter of our crew?” Flint said, stroking his beard and watching John with the same smirk.

Silver was happy to deliver the news. Most of their men wanted to follow Flint and him to Brazil, trusting captain’s plan. They have not lost any of essential professionals, which meant that, thankfully, no new recruits were needed. There were of course about fifteen men who desired to gamble and whore their share away and be on the hunt the very next day their pockets become empty, fully committed to, even addicted to the hunt. However, even then the talks John had with those men were pleasant. They shared that Billy had already approached them on the matter and they were to rally behind him when captain Flint would wish to release them from their duties upon reaching Nassau. Silver was satisfied with such outcome, having anticipated something of that sort, but he could not help to feel slightly annoyed that Flint and Bones had been obviously discussing those strategies without him.

“…Anyway, we needn’t worry about anyone, apart from Morris and Duhnem, those couple of pricks, they are likely to try something stupid.” John concluded, remembering the dirty looks he spotted coming from these two men.

“I’m surprised we got only a couple of bad apples.” – Flint said, furrowing his brow – “We either don’t have enough information _or_ , what’s unlikely, _everybody_ _else_ aboard is content choosing between us and Billy.”

“Not _that_ unlikely. Men know that if you’ve got something planned it must be solid. You’ve reestablished your influence on them in the last weeks. They will follow you gladly.” – John said, observing Flint carefully – “And then there’s their brother Billy Bones, gathering the renegades under his black flag, honoring The Code… Come to think of it: how can we be sure that Billy is not gonna cross us?”

“We can’t be sure. But I don’t believe he will.” Flint said, looking quite resolute.

“And why is that?” Silver asked in a heartbeat, unwilling to accept such explanation.

“Because Billy is loyal and has decency not to cross his old crew that strives to begin another chapter of their lives. He takes his substantial share and _the Walrus_ , he is to sail her with his own crew as he pleases.” Flint answered, watching John closely.

“ _Decency_?! He can spin all sorts of tales – the most recent one got _nine_ men executed! Don’t you think it’s a bit naïve to expect that particular grand gesture from the man who is actively rejecting to leave piracy?” John argued, suddenly irritated.

“True, but it’s not some man we’re talking about, it’s Billy. You haven’t been with the crew long enough, so you don’t know him like others do.” Flint shrugged.

John knitted his brow; he could not agree with such argument. “I _certainly_ don’t know him like _you do_.” – Silver did not stop upon seeing Flint scrunching his nose – “Is he receiving special treatment because you two used to fuck?”

“I suppose he is.” Flint said abruptly, looking at John with cryptic expression.

Full of frustration, John snorted and got up on his feet. “I gotta get back on deck.” He turned to head out of the cabin but was stopped by Flint’s reply.

“Would you rather have them all killed, John?” – The captain was visibly irritated – “How else would you handle this situation? They want their gold, and they want to stay with it in Nassau. Why should I sabotage that arrangement?”

“When exactly have you made that arrangement?” John asked quickly.

“On the day we reached the _Urca_.” – Flint said, still sitting behind his desk, but glaring at John with intensity – “Answer my question now.”

Silver knew he got riled up unfairly: there was no other way but to bid Billy farewell in Nassau and be on their own way. He did not wish to spill blood. His frustration had nothing to do with danger of splitting the crew, it got everything to do with Billy and Flint.

“You’re right. There’s nothing else we can do.” John said, meeting captain’s eye and nodding.

Flint regarded him coolly and then dismissed him with, “Keep an eye on Morris and Duhnem.”

John walked out of the cabin chastising himself for such unnecessary outburst.

***

In the early evening both ships have come close and dropped anchors. The part of the crew sailing the _Walrus_ went over aboard the _Seahawk_ for a drink and a chat. John was joking around with the men, until he saw Flint gesturing Silver to follow him, Mr. Scott and Billy to the captain’s cabin. On his way, John could not help but notice Billy’s hand resting casually on Flint’s shoulder as they disappeared behind the door.

“She’s truly in a better condition: we’ve managed to pull through the repairs of the mizzen yesterday, the lads are doing great.” Billy beamed at Flint, sitting down in the chair closer to him.

“Glad to hear it.” Flint smiled brightly, offering Billy a drink. Bones accepted it and licked his lips, and John knew that his gaze was focused on captain’s chest visible in his half-open shirt, specifically on a bitemark, that John had left this morning, faintly visible on the fair skin.

When Billy looked up at him, John grinned unapologetically. Bones kept eye contact for a while but then flashed his white teeth in a smile and turned to Flint again.

“Now that we’re all here. Billy, what’s your count?” The captain asked, relaxing against the back of his chair and fiddling with his rings.

“Exactly half is with you.” Billy answered, taking a swig.

“Fifteen of ours here would follow you.” – Flint chewed his lip pensively – “It’s only a first count, but it leaves you with thirty-five men, not bad at all.”

Billy smiled again and nodded dutifully. “I’m gonna recruit another twenty in Nassau in the next couple of weeks. Lads wish to celebrate, they’re not gonna be seaworthy for a while anyway.”

“Billy Bones, the Unsinkable, the new captain of the _Walrus_ , my congratulations _._ ” Silver raised his glass, shooting Billy another smile.

Bones thanked him and knocked back his drink. Flint followed, watching John calmly, but then averting his gaze to their composed as ever accountant.

“Mr. Scott, how’s the counting going on?” Flint asked.

“Everything is taken into account, captain. The crates were filled anew with the exact amount written on them. We’ll be redistributing them as soon as I’m done with the total count. I’m going to need my two assistants for weighting and filling out the articles. I expect us to be ready till we reach Nassau.” Mr. Scott smiled politely, when Flint thanked him, satisfied with his efficiency.

“So, how exactly is the gold gonna be transported into the arms of our generous benefactors?” John asked breezily.

“Billy is going to manage that with the _Walrus_. Send the word to Guthrie first, she swore to give you convoy and safe pass into the bay… Whatever the fuck Vane is still doing in that fort… Those are the letters and contracts for all our sponsors, awaiting only the sum and signatures.” – Flint gestured to a couple of envelopes on his table – “The _Seahawk_ will be drifting near the isles couple of hours away from Nassau. She’s a floating fortress, but it’s better to remain out of the bay, I don’t want to give anyone any ideas. We’ll be waiting for you with our supplies in the designated spot and next day venture further South.” Flint said, talking to Billy the whole time.

They all left the cabin together to address the crew. Flint’s speech was short and effective, he explained the plan to all present and reminded them again about the stakes of their endeavor. Preliminary count was precise – thirty-five men were going to sail under Billy in a couple of days.

After the vote, a couple of barrels of ale had been brought from the storage and the men gathered around to shoot the breeze on the weather deck under the stars. Couple of hours passed in carousing. John had just left the company of Logan and Muldoon who both had a bit too much, and was leaning against the railing, watching Flint amiably chatting with Joji and Dorney. It was strange to see him socialize with the crew, but it was a sight to behold. His company seemed completely captivated. Aware of Flint’s extraordinary gift for storytelling John could not suppress his smile.

“Suppose I gotta offer you my congratulations as well.” Billy said conversationally, suddenly approaching him from behind. His voice was not unkind, but his eyes on John remained cold.

“You reckon?” John asked, meeting his gaze unfalteringly.

“It’s obvious that you got what you wanted from him.” – Billy smirked, when he saw John rolling his eyes – “Yes, I’ve noticed the mark, but the fact that your eyes are shooting daggers even more than usual is also a bit of a giveaway. Feeling quite possessive already?”

“Is trying to antagonize me helping you to achieve anything?” Silver asked quizzically.

“Just wondering.” – Billy replied, glancing around his shoulder at the captain – “Wondering if you realize that you landed in his bed only because _I_ refused to follow him to Brazil.”

“Well, that’s _your_ _loss_ then.” John shrugged, suddenly feeling elated. He left Billy standing at the railing, setting off to Flint. His mind was clear at last, and he approached the captain with a winning smile.

Flint looked at him curiously, corner of his mouth curling. “Mr. Silver?”

“Captain, just a moment of your time.” John nodded politely, walking into the corridor leading to the officers’ cabins. He heard Flint’s steps behind him and felt even more confident. They got to John’s room and the captain closed the door, leaning back on it.

“What is-” Flint started, but John quickly interrupted him.

“I’m sorry about today.” – He blurted out, looking Flint in the eye – “I was jealous of Billy.” Admitting it to the captain was easier than he thought, and John breathed out quietly.

“We didn’t actually fight, John.” The captain said, his gaze turning warm.

“I know, still, I wanted to tell you that. And apologize for my reaction, it was uncalled for.” John uttered, making a step towards Flint, and placing his palm on his chest.

Flint regarded him for another moment and then leaned forward to kiss John gently. Silver readily wrapped his arms around Flint’s waist and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. He had been stressing all day over that miscommunication, at the same time imagining Billy returning to their crew and irreversibly spoiling John’s chances with Flint. But Billy’s own remark had managed to give Silver a piece of mind. After all, he was the one holding the captain in his arms tonight.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been rightfully reminded that the fic was lacking some love and appreciation for John. The next couple of chapters are going to be dedicated to Flint's perspective.

_Freetown, 1714_

After ushering Billy into a rented room in the only tavern in town, which was also operating as a brothel, Flint ventured out to order the water and supplies. He was fuming while doing so, terrifying the working girls. Billy had been neglecting a cutlass wound on his stomach to the point of it getting infected. James tended to him, thoroughly cleaning the cut and ignoring Billy’s fevered wailing while doing so. When it was over, he let the bosun rest sprawled on the bed, and got back to the main floor to get himself a drink. His hands were shaking.

They had left Howell to wait for a shipment of instruments in Nassau, expecting the next hunt to be easy and quick. However, the opponent turned out to be more formidable than expected and gave them hell of a fight. Some men from the crew were also injured and, with no medical supplies aboard, Flint ordered to make a haste stop at the nearest civilized port on their way home.

He was sitting at the bar, caught up in his thoughts, allowing worry for Billy, that held him in a tight grip all day, gradually dissipate. Flint knew the bosun was going to make it, as strong and resilient as he was.

James had felt rather than heard someone approaching his chair and turned his head as the man leaned on the table and grinned at him.

“Ned.” Flint said, not sure what he felt seeing him here.

“James.” Low’s smirk became even more sly. He sat beside Flint, allowing their knees to touch.

That thing between them was going on for ages, always staying the same. They fucked like those were their last days on God’ green earth and then bid each other farewell to coincidentally run into each other in various seedy establishments all around New Indies. To their mutual amusement their paths had managed to cross multiple times since their first meeting on Tortuga almost six years ago. However, apart from their names and the names of ships they sailed, they did not know a single personal thing about each other. Flint never felt the need to get to know the younger man. Their relationship remained strictly physical and, even though Low tried to become a part of his crew at first, James knew that they would always remain exactly that. They clicked sexually, but Flint did not want to uncover Ned’s soul, rightfully expecting it to be a can of worms.

James studied his face. “ _Damn_ , when did _that_ happen?” He asked, furrowing his brow, referring to a thin white scar going across Low’s right eye, which apparently was a prosthetic, the pale blue of it was clouded.

“About two years ago…” – Ned said wistfully, absently scratching his brow – “Unfortunately, the man who did it was already dead, when I got to him.” 

“That’s a shame.” Flint uttered, downing his drink.

“That I’ve lost my good looks?” Low asked teasingly, watching James unblinking.

“Nothing happened to your good looks: the eye gives you sort of rugged mystique.” – James said with a grin – “’Tis a shame that you could not exact your revenge.”

“Well, he also _had_ a family.” Ned bared his teeth in a wicked smile and downed his rum.

Flint shook his head, focusing on his glass again. Here was the young man quite dissatisfied with the world and how it worked. A perfect example of that breed of people who would become pirates out of bloodthirst and total lack of morals.

“It’s great to see you.” – Low murmured and looked him in the eye again, gesturing above – “I’ve got a room here.”

“So do I. And I’ve got a wounded member of my crew resting there.”

“Then we go to mine.” Ned shrugged, raised his brows and grinned again.

“It’s a tempting offer.” – Flint said, standing up – “But we’re not doing it tonight. I’m here with someone.” – Flint had learnt the hard way about young men like Ned Low, they did not tick like normal people – “Sorry to disappoint you.” He caught his eye and nodded, standing up.

Ned did not try to stop him, and James walked upstairs to his room. As he was opening the door, he sensed some movement behind him and, expecting the worst, stormed into the room, quickly turning around with his dagger readily out.

Low smirked at his tensed state and leaned on the doorframe. He observed the interior, stopping at Billy, still peacefully sleeping on the bed after being heavily medicated with laudanum.

“I see…” – Ned crossed his arms on his chest, his tone was playful, but his eyes turned cruel – “Not bad at all! That member of your crew then?”

“My bosun, actually.” Flint said casually, lowering his blade but not sheathing it.

“Oh, is he, really? _Famous Billy Bones_?” – Low raised his brow – “I’ve heard about him from my lads.”

“He’s got quite a reputation.” James said, warily watching Low’s every move.

“And he’s also the one man from your crew that you’re fucking.” – Ned tilted his head, his voice somewhat louder than before – “Didn’t you have _that particular rule_ about not mixing business and pleasure? Isn’t that why you did not accept me in your crew years ago?”

“It’s a bit different-” Flint started after a long pause, trying to deescalate the situation.

“-Different because it concerns Billy Bones?” Low chimed in, watching him like a cobra.

“Yes.” James admitted simply. Billy was special to him, that was exactly why he broke his own rules.

Low scoffed and shook his head, piercing Flint with his fiery eye, getting even more riled up. “For me you wouldn’t make such exception. I find it difficult to not become offended by that.”

“Keep your voice down, Ned, I’ve never tried to offend you.” James said firmly, holding his gaze.

“I’ve been asking you for years for _one fucking run_! What exactly am I _lacking_ that you wouldn’t even give me one fucking chance to sail with you?” Low spat out, breathing heavily.

“Self-control.” – Flint said, assuming his usual collected demeanor – “And it is as apparent as it was years ago. There’s no need for a scene.”

Ned gave him a crooked grin and crossed his arms on his chest. “Does the mighty Billy Bones know about us?”

“Doesn’t need to, as our business is irrelevant.” – Flint said abruptly – “Don’t delude yourself into thinking me too sentimental. I won’t have any second thoughts if you try _anything_.”

“Duly noted.” – Low scoffed and arched his brow. – “Farewell, captain Flint.” He walked out of the room with a wicked grin, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving James standing in the middle, still firmly clutching his dagger.

***

_Nassau, 1715_

He was almost there: tilted masts of the _Walrus_ were already visible above a sandy hill. The place for careening was far from ideal but they had no other choice. Flint could not help but feel reluctant returning to their camp at all. Of course, he would not really commit to a cowardly act of running away, but he was so tired that this idea was coming up to him more frequently nowadays.

For the last couple of weeks James had barely slept. Closing his eyes, he saw myriads of events that his tired brain was unable to stop mulling over: the _Urca_ getting away, him being executed by the angry mob, his bosun turning on him, Miranda getting hurt.

For any casual onlooker, the captain seemed completely unaffected by the obstacles that kept appearing on his way. Sure, his mood was foul, but the men expected Flint to be mean and brooding: according to them, that was exactly how he ticked. Steely, demanding, impatient, violent. For him barking orders and gloomily listening to reports were the only methods of communication with outer world. James wondered if he had truly become that persona that everyone around him needed or believed to need. He still remembered not being like this. 

He dismounted his horse to be immediately approached by De Groot with a report. “We’re ahead of schedule. Ready to raise the keel. I think we might actually pull it off. We’ll have Billy to thank for that.” – The sailing master looked around his shoulder to a group of man securing the ropes – “I have no idea how he’s done it, but he’s kept them to a schedule. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crew work this fast and this hard.”

Flint did not have to look twice to instantly recognize Billy’s mighty figure among the others. He was pulling a rope hard, simultaneously shouting the orders, his naked torso glistening with sweat under unforgiving sun. James dismissed De Groot with a curt nod, while watching Billy work.

Four months passed after their final argument: many days of dodging Billy’s intense staring, many sleepless nights with Flint battling that crushing urge of dragging the bosun out of the berth to have him all to himself again. James missed him terribly, missed waking up with him in his bed, missed the warmth and reverence of his touches and it appeared, that the feeling was mutual. James missed him, but he also knew from bitter experience that it was going to pass at some point. Another gaping wound on his heart would heal with time. He knew it too well. He just had to focus on his main task and try not to think about his personal matters that much.

Starting to fuck an irreplaceable member of his crew was a bad idea from the start. He was right to be reluctant to reciprocate Billy’s advances, because he knew damn well that this could not last long: they were after different things in life. Even worse was that he also fully realized that he would not be able to _just_ fool around with Billy Bones: they both were going to get hurt in the end, and _still_ he could not say no. It was not merely a mean to relieve stress and unwind with a handsome young man between the sheets, he had done it before with numerous people and found it generally pleasant, yet unfulfilling. For years he had been lacking true intimacy and it was too tempting to accept Billy’s feelings for him and at least try to have something meaningful, tender, overwhelming, something that reminded him of Thomas. Even more heart-wrenching was the fact that Billy and he had almost succeeded at building that partnership that James’ soul was craving. Getting a glimpse of that and losing it was even worse.

There was shouting at their campfire that ripped him out of his gloomy thoughts. It seemed like the cook was in trouble. Muldoon was screaming at him, while Silver sported that sheepish smile he had on almost constantly. However, James could bet everything that the cook was not truly bothered by this situation at all. Flint approached them quickly and asked Muldoon what the problem was, all the while watching how Silver’s posture changed slightly upon his arrival. The gunner said something about bloody squirts he and his mates were having, but Flint’s full attention was on Silver. He had noticed the looks the young man was sending his way, suspecting that Silver was trying to spark his interest only to manipulate him, still, James found the dark-haired prat impossible to ignore.

“It’s possible it wasn’t the pig, you know, some people have weak constitutions.” Silver, that cheeky bastard, said it all too serious, even Muldoon was able to recognize a taunt. Flint stroked his beard to hide his smirk, stopping Muldoon from lunging at the cook with an abrupt order. Silver had already lifted a cleaver he was holding in defense, as though he knew how to use it.

James picked up one utterly unappetizing piece and put it in his mouth. Just like he suspected, the taste and texture of raw meat was horrendous, however he kept chewing on that piece without batting an eye. Silver watched him with his mouth half open, seemingly shocked that his cooking had been put to the test by the captain himself.

“Mmm, it’s delicious.” – Flint proclaimed with a sigh, trying his hardest to keep that abomination in his mouth – “It’s likely wasn’t a pig, just something that’s going around. Get back to work.” He dismissed Muldoon and met Silver’s gaze: the cook had a nerve to flash him a toothy smile.

“Thank you. I’m glad someone here likes…” He was interrupted by Flint furiously spitting on the ground.

“ _What the fuck_ did you do to that?” In any other circumstances James would appreciate that comically offended expression on Silver’s handsome face. Now he only wanted to know how that man _dared_ to impersonate a cook apparently knowing fuck-all about cooking, and how overconfident that man was to think that such scheme would turn out well. James decided to ditch ‘the cook’ for good and refer to him only as ‘the thief’ from now on.

“I…cooked it?” Silver carefully answered with a frown.

“You _absolutely_ did _not_.” Flint retorted quickly, still spitting out the tiny pieces of raw meat in disgust.

“The men seemed to think it looked done.” The thief looked apologetic and wary.

“Yes, well, they’d eat it raw if left to their own devices.” James said dismissively.

“That’s _awfully_ cynical.” Silver’s answer came in a heartbeat, accompanied with a melodic chuckle. Suddenly James felt inexplicable urge to return that bright smile and he had to scrunch his nose and purse his lips to quell it.

He had met enough people in his life to instantly recognize the ones he could possibly connect with. Early in his life there were some of his shipmates in the Navy and his mentor Admiral Hennessey, then, of course, Miranda and Thomas, Eleanor, Hal Gates and Billy. _And now this thief_. James could feel that, if they made acquaintance in other time and another place, they would get along exceptionally well. And looking into Silver’s eyes shining with wit, he regretted the loss of that chance.

“Go get another pig.” – Flint said, frowning at his thoughts – “Do _exactly_ as I say.”

Upon hearing his last words, Silver’s eyes momentarily turned glassy and he licked his lips, quickly giving Flint’s chest and shoulders a heated glance. James registered that reaction and muttered a curse, heading to his desk under a tent. Silver was showing his interest in the most obvious way and Flint worried about the crew, and Billy in particular, noticing that. He himself, however, had to be more careful with those innuendos.

He sat down behind his desk, purposefully laying out his sea charts and getting to work. But to his own irritation, while giving his cooking instructions, his gaze kept returning to the hapless thief. Silver was undoubtfully a wonderful specimen: slightly shorter than James, compact strong body with lithe muscles, flawless olive skin, waves of dark hair, chiseled jawline and bright blue eyes. He was so effortlessly handsome, and James hated that part of himself that could not stop watching him, just like he was watching Billy. He was not Flint’s usual type: most of the time he fancied tall blond men, probably because of Thomas. But Silver had that flair of roguish confidence and James was drawn to him like he never was before.

Thankfully, James also had had the best arenas to extensively practice his skill of appearing cold and imperturbable – Royal Navy and London society, so Silver remained blissfully oblivious of his appraising gazes.

James frowned, the heat was manageable in the tent, but sun reflecting off the white sand was blinding. He slumped in his chair and lowered his eyelids, allowing his mind to wander. Silver was standing close to the fire, putting another portion of marinade over the pig. Flint found his forearms and ankles very aesthetically pleasing. Silver’s shirt was open, allowing Flint to admire his toned chest and abdomen glistening with sweat. James caught himself thinking about the way it would taste if he would lick it off that glowing skin and muttered another curse under his breath, wearily covering his face with his palm. That was becoming too much. He had not considered himself an insatiable lecher before, but here he was, mere months after finishing with Billy, lusting after _yet another_ young man under his command. He was unbearable even to himself.

“How exactly does the most feared captain of the high seas learn how to spice and glaze a pig?” Silver’s voice got Flint back from his temporary stasis. The young man approached the desk, slightly leaning on it with his hip and crossing his arms on his chest.

“What do you care?” He spat out, angrier at himself than at the nosy thief.

“Well, I don’t, really…It’s just that there’s something we need to talk about, and I thought a little small talk beforehand might be better than diving right in.” Silver shrugged, that animated expression back on his face. Flint liked mischievous glint in his eye along with that grin.

“What the hell are you talking about?” James arched his brow, not allowing himself to show any sign of interest.

Silver looked around his shoulder and then, to Flint’s utmost surprise, said, “What are we going to do about Billy?”

“Beg your pardon?” James asked, momentarily shocked how of all numerous worries occupying his mind, exactly those two, the most disturbing for his pitiful remnants of virtue, had been brought up by Silver now.

“As much as it pains me to say this, as he has been nothing but warm and welcoming to me, he appears to be straining at the seams.” – Here was that manipulative lilt in Silver’s sly voice that Flint did not appreciate – “I thought maybe we-”

“-Stop.” – James exclaimed, gladly embracing that chance to antagonize the thief – “There is no we.” – He said, reminding himself of Silver’s opportunistic motives – “Billy Bones is a dutiful boatswain who commands enormous respect from his crew _as well as_ _from myself_. I trust him a thousand times more than I would a rodent like yourself.”

“Understood.” – Silver took no insult and seemed at his core completely unbothered by Flint’s admission – “But I saw Billy speaking with Mr. Morley late last week, at night…in secret.” He raised his brows as though urging Flint to jump to conclusions.

“That supposed to mean something to me?” James shook his head at the sheer cheek of the thief. He had rarely met someone like that, infuriating in a good way, it felt damn refreshing.

“Well, he lied about the page being blank. I believe it’s wearing on him.” Silver nodded,

“I told you once. I won’t tell you again. I trust Billy.” When Flint said it, he knew it to be true. Even after ending their affair, he trusted Billy with his life, he knew that the bosun would never willingly cross him, and Flint, on his part, would never be impartial towards him.

“Trust _me_!” Silver cried out and that plea affected James more than he ever cared to admit. He _would like_ to trust him and get to know that intriguing young man who seemed to navigate his life so confidently. He would like to trust him enough to get closer to him.

“I’m purely in this for myself and you know this.” – Silver continued – “I’ve no reason to tell you anything other than the truth. _Both our_ _futures_ depend on this.” He finished gravely, staring Flint in the eye with intent.

The captain gave him a crooked grin and said, “I haven’t decided yet whether you _even have_ a future. But I can tell you this – trying to play me against my own crew will not help your cause.” – Flint watched Silver pursing his lips with grim satisfaction – “Turn your pig, it’s almost done.”

***

_Florida coast, 1715_

There was no point of opening his eyes. It had all been lost, he had witnessed it. That’s why he readily went down with his ship, even welcomed it. That fucking Dufresne and those braindead brutes who followed him. Flint’s elaborate planning of making Thomas’ vision come to life, it all was in vain. Hal, gold, his ship, they were all gone. So, there was clearly little he could hold on to.

As soon as he regained his consciousness, he stayed lying on the beach, feeling dull ache in his whole body, particularly in his shoulder, and contemplating all the life choices that had brought him to this very moment. He had been too driven, too desperate and now he was going to reap what he sowed. There was no chance to recover from such defeat.

James heard some noise to his right and finally decided to open his eyes, turning his head. To his utmost surprise, it was none other than John Silver sitting next to him. It was his blue jacket that James was resting his head on. Flint propped himself on his elbows to watch the thief with disbelieving eyes. He must have been the sole reason James was still alive.

Flint remembered that moment aboard the _Walrus_ right before Silver lit up a fuse. “Sorry, it had to be done.” Silver said to the flabbergasted crew, sporting a wild, self-satisfied smile. He was the only one still following captain’s orders. Their eyes had met, and James was captivated by that swashbuckling fervour in thief’s blue eyes that ignited him and shook him to his very core.

James could not even start to comprehend how did Silver manage to drag him from the deep. His pistol wound had been dressed too, most certainly by Silver himself. James silently watched his profile, as he was tending a small cut on his own leg. His hands worked nimbly. His hair was still damp, dark waves covering the right part of his neck, revealing the center, where Flint could see tender looking skin and vertebrae. Sturdy, yet vulnerable. For some reason that view made James’ chest hurt.

Silver must have registered a motion to his left and turned around to meet Flint’s intense stare. It was obvious that he was startled to find the captain fully awake, studying him. His expression remained unguarded and he gave Flint a small smile. James kept peering into his eyes, trying to spot at least a tiny glimpse of trickery, some sign of his rescue being another manipulation tactic. Just as he wanted to voice his surprise and inquire about Silver’s motives, they had been interrupted by Dufresne, approaching them with a gloomy face.

James was not that surprised by Dufresne having audacity to negotiate with him after that mutiny. Hell, as soon as he saw that gold glittering on the beach, he immediately ditched his own defeatist mood, a new strategy forming in his mind fast as lightning. He would return for that gold later, the only chance they ever had with their diminished crew, was to steal the warship and bring reinforcement from Nassau. Sneaking into the hold of the ship that annihilated them mere hours ago was insane enough to try in their dire situation.

The fact, that Silver volunteered to go with him, was no revelation for the rest of the crew, as they both were facing execution. However, James still could not quite wrap his head around thief’s stubborn determination to follow him.

As soon as they were left alone, James had to make Silver realize that he indeed fully intended to board that ship with or without his help. Flint also mapped out Silver’s bleak chances of survival would he try to escape on foot, just as a parting pleasantry.

After that heated discussion Flint set off towards the warship, gritting his teeth, trying hard not to overwork his wounded shoulder. When the pain became a bit too much, he let himself rest, floating on the waves. Silver was right behind him, again, looking at him warily, treading water. James could clearly see tension in his vivacious face. He was unconsciously pressing his lips together, knitting his brows. He was still there, right behind Flint, even though his survival instinct must have been protesting such madness. That tightness in James’ chest was back. He glanced at that face once more, allowing himself to relax. The events of the last couple of days shone a new light on John Silver.

For many obscure reasons James felt bound to Silver and there was no point denying it now. Silver’s unusual altruistic behaviour could mean that he was feeling it too. That was extremely tempting to explore that connection further and Flint decided to throw caution to the wind and fully commit to it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: that's a jumbo chapter, I went off the rails with it. But the fic is far from being over.

_West Indies, 1715_

That brig, _Santa Margarita_ , managed to surprise Flint. He did not expect her crew to be that meager. However, it did not nullify the risk of boarding them, the risk to lose their quartermaster in fact. James was on edge since sighting the brig. He gave Silver his most reliable pistols, explained him his best strategy. As they went over the rail, Flint had been keeping an eye on John advancing to the weather deck. Flint could not let the quartermaster stay aboard, but now he was tremendously relieved and pleased with the outcome. For someone with minimal combat experience, Silver had done spectacularly.

Now, approaching his tense figure, James smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“ _You absolute daredevil!_ ” – Flint made sure to show how proud of him he truly was – “Captain’s quarters are empty, take whatever useful you can find, preferably a ledger, we ought to investigate it later. Enough excitement for today.”

He awaited some of Silver’s usual cocky ‘Aye-aye’ but instead got a quite complicated look, that he strived to read. Silver was still obviously in adrenaline-filled stupor, after killing the enemy captain. But there was also that dashing temerity and longing in his eyes. Flint had seen it before: during their suicidal boarding of the warship, and when he regained his captaincy, as Silver saved him from a bullet. It was the same look, that made him feel like there were only two of them in the whole ocean.

James’ reassuring gaze on Silver did not waver, but he was shaken to the core by John’s expressive eyes. Silver seemed to be unable to find any words, only searching James’ face, as if he could not get enough of seeing him alive. Flint’s presence had an obvious soothing effect on him. The younger man finally took a deep breath and nodded, walking towards the captain’s quarters. James watched him disappear behind the door, finally feeling tension leaving his body. From now on, he decided to avoid confrontations with any other crew at all costs. 

***

“Excessive gold is being transported from the _Walrus_ this very moment, captain.” – Logan said, unable to hide his proud smirk – “Everything’s running smoothly, Mr. Silver is overseeing the process.”

“Thank you, Mr. Logan, double the rum rations tonight.” Flint said, dismissing the armorer with a nod.

Even after getting good news, Flint’s mood remained foul. He did not understand himself. They were one day away from Nassau, two ships in total accord. The gold was safe, the crew satisfied. Everything went according to his plan. Though for James, today was almost unbearable.

Even though he and John made up yesterday, they had spent the night apart, as if giving each other space. The fact, that James seemed _not to need_ any space whatsoever, was disconcerting for him. He had not felt that for a very long time. It brought him back to those lazy Sunday mornings he had spent in bed between Thomas and Miranda. Back then he reveled in that exquisite feeling of belonging, entirely satisfied with every aspect of his existence, as he was sharing his time with those he held dear. He never wanted to let them go. And now he realized that he was starting to feel the same way about John. James craved his company, his attention, his touch, and could not get enough of that. It thrilled him, but at the same time it made him melancholic.

In order to quell his anxiety and shut up annoying voices in his head, he resorted to drinking. James was finishing his fourth measure of rum; it was some vicious swill the crew regularly consumed. His head had already started to lightly spin. He had been humming a melody from _L’Orfeo_ he suddenly remembered, pouring another portion of rum in a simple tin mug, when he heard energetic steps behind the door.

“So, Mr. Scott was quite diligent with his task.” John said, entering the cabin and promptly approaching his desk. He was wearing dark breeches and a plain white shirt, that accentuated delicious color of his skin. James, in his intoxicated state, could not keep himself from staring, and Silver, thankfully, did not mind it. John glanced at a bottle in front of Flint, but did not comment on it, concentrating all his attention on captain’s face.

James nodded, knocking back his drink and scrunching his face at the abominable burn. Silver sat down opposite Flint and smoothed back his hair, watching him carefully.

“Want some?” James muttered, gesturing to the bottle. Silver shrugged, reached out and took a hefty swig right from it. Flint was momentarily mesmerized by the bobbing of John’s Adam apple, allowing his gaze to travel over Silver’s collarbones. 

“We’re ahead of schedule.” – John said, catching Flint’s eye – “The crew-”

“-You got everything under control?” Flint interrupted, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes.” Silver answered in a heartbeat, furrowing his brow.

“Then I don’t need to hear the rest.” Flint said, smirking into his mug.

Silver looked somewhat perplexed, trying to decipher what game the captain was playing right now. James saw that clearly and felt the urge to ease his worries in an instant.

“I trust you.” Flint said simply, watching John’s animated reaction. His blue eyes lit up at his confession and he smiled, holding Flint’s warm gaze.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. James reached out to take one ornate chalice from its case and pour some rum in it for John.

“Where’s yours?” Silver said lightly, accepting the chalice.

“I don’t deserve it today.” Flint said dismissively, finishing another measure.

“What’s bothering you?” Silver asked after a small pause, looking concerned.

Flint was once again caught in those blue depths. He shook his head and proceeded fiddling with his rings, his right hand buried in his hair. A part of him wanted to suppress his worries further, another part desperately wanted to share them with a trusted companion. James could see John’s struggle to remain silent at that. He was once again impressed by Silver’s tact. It was his innate ability to know just what to say and when to say it. He was patiently waiting for James’ reply, and Flint could not help but feel grateful for it.

“Nassau is getting closer…Soon we’re leaving it for good.” Flint said, focusing his gaze on Silver’s temple, and paused again.

“Are you ready to bid farewell to it?” John asked carefully, sipping from his glass.

“I am. At least, I believe I am…” – That sort of talk made him vulnerable, but those blue eyes were piercing right through him and Flint could not hold back – “I want to ask you for a favor, John. It’s a big one, and it’s extremely important to me.”

Silver slowly nodded, regarding him seriously. Flint breathed in calmly, deciding to get it over with.

“I need you to escort Mrs. Barlow aboard our ship.” – James said, studying John’s expression – “I’d do it myself, but I feel that my absence now is gonna be disrupting morale.”

John was watching him, nervously biting his lower lip. A small crease appeared between his brows.

“It had to be done discreetly. I don’t expect any troubles, however, you may take three men of your choosing as your convoy.” Flint said, still piercing Silver with his gaze.

“That won’t be a problem, captain.” – John said, leaning back in his chair, and after a long pause finally uttered – “Is Mrs. Barlow…who is she?”

“ _Not_ my wife.” – James rushed with an answer, shaking his head – “From the outside, our relationship may resemble marriage, as she is someone very special to me: she holds my confidence and I feel personally responsible for her well-being.”

Silver slowly nodded again, without interrupting eye contact. “Is she your lover then?”

“Used to be…but not anymore. She knew me back in London. We went through a lot together in the past, and I feel that I owe her the brightest future possible.” – James said firmly – “So, all in all, it’s me asking you to help me get my dearest friend aboard. We would accommodate her in the other officer’s cabin. I’m taking her down South with us.”

“I’ll do it for you.” Silver said, twisting the glass in his hand and knocking back his rum.

“I appreciate it, John.” Flint said, regarding him warmly. It was obvious that Silver did not jump at the opportunity to reunite him with Miranda, but that was why his compliance pleased James so much. He did not want John to feel inadequate, intimidated by his relationship with Miranda. “She was aware of my plan for Nassau from the beginning, and she was personally invested in it. So, when we returned with the _Seahawk_ , I had to see her straight away and tell her what happened, and how I felt… Tell her about the change of the plan, how I could not push anymore. I dreaded that she may think me coward, despise me for giving up. But she immediately understood, without any second thought she gave me her full support.”

“She wanted you to take that hostage back to her father.” John said, watching him attentively.

“Yes, we’ve fought, and our parting can only be described as unpleasant. But I know that she won’t hold a grudge against me and will forgive my decision not to meddle.”

John nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He was fiddling with the rings on his fingers, mimicking Flint. At last, he decided to speak up, his face a mask of fake indifference. “So…when we’re in Brazil…you planning to live with her?”

Flint watched him carefully. “I’m not planning to part with Miranda for good. Though after ensuring her safety and financial independence, I’ll let her decide what she rather do. If she never wants to see me again after that – I’m going to respect it. Her happiness is my priority.”

“You really care for her.” John said, looking down his glass, avoiding Flint’s gaze.

“I owe her my life.” – James replied, focusing on a slight twitch of John’s fingers – “She was there for me when I had lost all hope.” – He let his voice turn gentle – “Just like you.” 

John perked up at that, meeting James’ eye and allowing a tiny smile to appear on his face.

“You’re lucky to have each other.” Silver said, tilting his head to a side. 

Flint nodded, concentrating on filling their glasses once more. They knocked it back in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. 

“I think I’ve never had anyone _that_ special to me.” John said all of a sudden, peering out of the window with unseeing eyes.

“How so?” James asked quietly, trying to memorize every little detail about Silver’s thoughtful face. John was feigning nonchalance, but a slight lilt in his voice and his inability to look Flint in the eye gave him away.

“There were many people that I had admired over the years” – John waved his hand noncommittally – “Sometimes it resulted in something, but mostly stayed one-sided.”

“Why is that?” James was intrigued. He could not imagine that someone as captivating as John Silver had never had a confidant.

“I’m picking wrong people to desire.” John said with unmirthful chuckle.

“Care to give an example?” James said, stroking his beard.

John looked at him cautiously, obviously contemplating whether it would be wise to reveal something that personal about himself. James held his gaze and gave him a reassuring half-smile. Silver glanced once again at his rings and took a deep breath.

“I once sailed with The East India Company, you’re probably aware that working on merchant vessels is not as much fun as high sea piracy.” – His tone was sarcastic – “Being young and impressionable, I took a liking to one of the passengers…” – John’s voice became strained, he was knitting his brow – “A fancy high-society fellow, heir to a great fortune, on his first voyage to India. I’ve never been even near anyone like him before, he was fascinating to me… When I could not sleep in the berth, I’ve fantasized about him.” – He scoffed, totally lost in that memory, grasping his glass tightly – “But I had no hopes that he could even notice me… He did, must have seen me gawking enough times to finally approach me. I couldn’t believe my luck…” – John’s jaw twitched, and he ruffled his hair angrily – “So, for a month we were messing around in his cabin after hours. Everything was going incredible till the end of the journey. On the last day he had reported to our captain, that I dared to lay my dirty hands on him and accused me of buggery…” – Silver averted his gaze – “Anyway, I was _incredibly lucky_ to not be reported to authorities, the captain only fired me and left me penniless in Bombay, where I had to spend a couple of very stressful weeks.”

Flint’s eyes turned glassy, for a split second thrown back to a quite painful memory of his own, but then concentrating all his attention on John. “ _Why the fuck_ did he do that?” He asked in a raspy voice, his chest aching at the sight of Silver’s frown. John had probably never told that story to anyone else, judging by the uneasy look he gave Flint.

“I frankly don’t know, I guess he liked me well enough to spare my life and just left me to fend for myself-” John said, inspecting contents of his glass again.

"-Not the captain, the fancy prick!” Flint interrupted impatiently.

“Oh, we never even had a fight, so I don’t believe he’d done it out of revenge. I was discreet and posed no threat to him.” – He smiled sheepishly, staring down at his hands – “Suppose, he was done playing with me, maybe wanted to show me how influential the likes of him are, that he could do anything with me, took some sick pleasure from it.” John shrugged, paying his full attention to the liquid in his glass, that apparently made him overshare one of the most painful experiences of his life. James learned to appreciate such moments above all else.

“Fuck that scum!” – Flint growled, downing his glass and slamming it on the table, genuinely furious on John’s behalf. He could not believe how such unpleasantness could befall his quartermaster – “I’d gut the whoreson.” He shook his head, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“Well, _that_ _is you_ , the most fearsome pirate captain of the New World.” – John could not help but tease, seeming increasingly entertained by Flint’s vivid reaction to his story – “I was seventeen and inexperienced enough to fall for all of that, wasn’t much I could do…” John shrugged and smiled, when he saw Flint continuously shaking his head in disapproval, his mouth pursed. “But I assure you, afterwards the only dreams I’ve ever had of him were of vengeful nature.” John grinned, placed his empty glass on the desk and slumped into his chair.

Silver’s story was still ringing in Flint’s head. Being so unnecessarily betrayed by a former lover was already terrible enough, but it must have been even more devastating for Silver, as he had nobody else in this world. James had to think about all those times he and Miranda consoled each other after Thomas had been taken away from them. He imagined John spending countless nights filled with shame and self-doubt, surrounded by men who could not hold a candle to him. After working together on their common goal, James knew for a fact, that John was not a lone wolf. He was extremely able on his own, but he truly thrived as a part of their duo. That was why Flint could not comprehend how it must have been like for such a man to be lacking suitable companionship.

“I’d gut him _for you_.” Flint said after a long pause, raking through his disheveled hair and giving Silver a mischievous grin.

“…You would?” John asked slowly, raising his brows and smiling brightly. He did not seem to care that their form of playful flirting involved talking about hypothetical murders, he could read between the lines. He got up on his feet and walked over to Flint’s chair.

“ _Absolutely_.” Flint nodded, watching his every move.

“I’m flattered.” – John said with his signature melodic chuckle, straddling Flint’s lap – “Nobody had ever proposed to avenge my honor before.” – He lightly stroked captain’s warm cheek with his thumb and smiled again – “Though I hope you don’t consider me helpless or inept.” He snorted cheekily.

“ _Never_.” – Flint shook his head adamantly – “I just feel very protective toward you.” He said casually, sliding his palms up over John’s hips, holding him firmly.

John’s breath hitched and he looked at Flint, apparently not quite believing his ears, placing his hands on captain’s shoulders. “And why is that?”

James felt drunk on rum and John’s proximity. These blue eyes captivated him, John’s solid weight on his lap was so comforting. It felt right.

“ _Because I’m falling for you_.” Flint said quietly, holding John’s searching gaze calmly. He realized that he was putting himself in a vulnerable position admitting something like that, but he drunkenly reveled in that rare pleasure of speaking from his heart.

John blinked a couple of times, his mouth opened on a shaky breath he took. He leaned closer, placing his palm on James’ jaw. “ _Fuck, that better be true_.” John whispered against his lips, diving into an overwhelming kiss. They held on to each other like two castaways in the storm, unable to let go. By the way Silver was kissing him, Flint could deduce that the sentiment was mutual.

James moaned as Silver started to grind his groin against him. He huffed out a laugh and leaned back, looking up at John with a dazed expression.

“I want you.” Silver said huskily with a wide smirk, stating the obvious.

Flint ran his palms over John’s back down to his arse, firmly squeezing that delectable flesh. “I want you too…” – James said, stroking his thumbs – “But I’m way too drunk right now to fully appreciate…all of you.” He brought John even closer to him, kissing sensitive skin of his neck.

He had been dying to take him for so long, but he was deliberately delaying that moment. Usually, he was not that sentimental. However, John’s keen reaction to his touches fascinated him. James wanted to take his time with him.

Silver gasped, still sensually rolling his hips. “Your suggestion?” He asked, already panting.

“Come to my bed, stay for the night.” James murmured, gently biting John’s earlobe.

John raked his fingers through James’ auburn hair, smiling at him warmly. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

***

The next morning greeted Flint with sunshine and a dull headache. That rum was truly a much-deserved punishment for his moping. However, feeling John’s back pressed to his front, made his miserable awakening entirely manageable. James rubbed his eyes, all the while stroking Silver’s side with his other hand.

Yesterday after getting in his bed John insisted on sucking Flint’s cock and afterwards James was only happy to return the favor. For a while they laid naked in each other’s arms, kissing lazily, before falling asleep. James had slept much better than the night before, and rum had nothing to do with it.

Flint silently admired the younger man lying next to him. His disheveled hair shone brightly in the sun. James reached out to run his fingers through the dark mass of curls, revealing a gracious curve of John’s neck. He could not resist planting a kiss on that patch of perfect skin.

John murmured something, waking up, pressing himself even closer to Flint. He reached out behind him, found Flint’s arm and brought it to his chest. James closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy that warm embrace for another five minutes, before kissing John’s neck once more and saying, “Come on, we’ll be expected on deck.”

He reluctantly disentangled his limbs from John’s and got up, stretching his back on his way to the basin. Silver followed in a heartbeat, as they repeated their ritual from the other morning, getting ready next to each other. James registered unsure gazes John was sending his way.

He wiped his face and arched his brow, grinning at John. “Spit it out.”

Silver averted his gaze, finishing brushing his teeth. “Yesterday…you said you were drunk…” He began carefully, but then stopped as if chastising himself for bringing it up.

“ _Everything_ I said – I meant it.” – James simply said with a shrug, putting on his trousers and boots – “Come here after hours, I’ll make it up to you.” He concluded swiftly, kissing John’s temple before striding towards the door. At last, he put on his shirt and looked around his shoulder at John still standing in the corner. Silver was smiling at him, with unguarded, beautiful expression on his face. Upon seeing that, James knew that nothing could spoil this day. He winked and walked outside, feeling ready for anything life could throw at him.

***

It seemed that nature herself was having none of James’ industrious plans to reach Nassau punctually. They were sailing into the wind the whole day, making very little progress. Changing the course was out of question for them. Flint was glued to his compass, every now and then giving instructions to the riggers. On any other day such meandering task would make him irritated, but not today. The deck was bursting with life. He had been catching John’s sideway gazes on him all day, making him giddy with anticipation.

Just as the sun began to set, they gave up and dropped anchor. On the way to his cabin, Flint clapped Muldoon on the shoulder, telling him to pray to whomever the fuck he wants for fair wind. The gunner repeated that order for everyone to hear with a wide smile. The men groaned good-heartedly: headwind was not ideal, of course, but the horizon was clear, their resources plenty and the overall spirits high. Flint made it clear that he wanted the watch to be vigilant at any given moment, apart from that, they were left to their own devices. The crew anticipated another pleasant evening of carousing.

James grinned, closing the door behind himself, thinking about his own pleasant evening. The fresh water had been already brought to his cabin. Flint quickly undressed and started cleaning himself thoroughly. He was not nervous. He enjoyed such titillation: it was Thomas who taught him to cherish such moments. Lord Hamilton liked to take things slow and elevate fucking to an act of lovemaking. James had never understood that difference before, but, subsequently, he learned it well. He thought about it with a melancholic smile, smearing aromatic oil onto his skin. Time was indeed a great healer: couple of years back such memory would crush him.

Flint quickly rinsed his hair, wrapped a linen around his hips and began trimming his beard. He was almost done when John entered the room without knocking. James met his eye in the mirror and smirked, a warm wave engulfing him at the sight of Silver, who was beaming at him, leaning against the closed door.

“You doing it every day?” John asked teasingly, gesturing to his beard and closing the distance.

“Every other day.” James retorted, arching his brow.

“It looks immaculate.” Silver shrugged, stopping next to him.

James smiled, diligently keeping to his task until he was satisfied with the result. John watched his every move as if enchanted.

“Can you shave me too?” Silver suddenly asked, rubbing his three-day stubble against Flint’s shoulder.

James rumbled in surprised agreement, ushering John to sit down. He was enthralled with Silver willingly asking him to come near him with a razor, as that practically screamed trust. He was finished in no time; Flint could work dexterously with almost any blade. Silver was silent during the whole process, watching him closely. Finally, James carefully wiped the soapy residue off John’s jaw.

“You’ve got such a _charming_ face.” Flint uttered, tilting John’s head back by his chin, inspecting quality of his handiwork. James was entertained by seeing Silver rolling his eyes, yet still blushing at that admission. Here was the man who was apparently not used getting compliments.

John stroked his smooth face and whistled. “ _Damn_ , you know what you’re doing.” He said, glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

“I do.” Flint said after a small pause, accentuating his words with a smirk.

Silver chuckled at that, whipping off his shirt and starting on his trousers. “Do you mind if I freshen up?” He asked, pointing to the full basin with his chin.

“Be my guest.” James said, walking towards the bed, snatching an unopened bottle of port on his way. He waited for John to finish, reclining onto the headboard, sipping his wine and, from time to time, glancing over to Silver in all his naked glory.

“So…You may start with keeping your promises.” – John said with a cocky grin, crossing the room– “ _Right now_.” He straddled Flint’s thigh and stared at him, impatiently licking his lips.

James smirked – he quite liked Silver being demanding and he was more than happy to oblige. He put the bottle on the bedside and then quickly flipped John onto his back, hovering over him. Silver immediately wrapped his arms and legs around him, trying to bring him closer to feel his weight on top of him.

Flint gave him a filthy kiss, sliding his tongue inside John’s mouth, making their heads spin. Silver moaned loudly and pushed his hips upwards, poking James’ stomach with his erect cock.

“Lay back and relax.” Flint said with the same wicked smirk, waiting for John to follow his order. Silver did, ever so reluctantly, burning him with his hungry gaze.

James kneeled between his legs and took a jar of coconut oil from under the pillow. He scooped a decent amount and coated his palms. He ran his hands all over Silver’s torso and down his legs, purposefully avoiding his groin. John bit his lower lip and thrusted again, as if reminding James about his straining cock.

“We’ll get to it.” – Flint said, thoroughly entertained and aroused by John’s eagerness – “Relax…” James’ low voice trailed off, as he continued massaging Silver’s toned masculine body, enjoying the feeling of tight muscles under his fingers. John took a deep breath and looked at him as if Flint was asking entirely too much of him, but then complied, visibly relaxing and closing his eyes.

James explored his body, relishing every stuttering moan from John. It was obvious that Silver had not enjoyed that kind of attention before, he became wonderfully pliant, sighing in pleasure and wriggling to meet Flint’s touches. James observed the younger man beneath him proudly: John was fucking magnificent and the sight of him was driving Flint mad with desire.

He coated his fingers with more oil and brought them between John’s legs, slowly caressing his ballsack and perineum. Silver gasped, opening his legs wider. His cock was rock hard, glistening with precum. It looked so enticing, that Flint could not wait any longer and bent down to lick around the head. John nearly shouted, lifting his arse to chase that sensation, but Flint had already leaned back. Silver opened his heavy-lidded eyes to look at Flint. He breathed unevenly through his mouth, apparently way too gone to care about anything other than his captain’s ministrations.

James caught his eye and then pushed his slick finger inside, being careful with an angle. John moaned lowly, momentarily tensing around the intrusion. Flint lowered his head again to gently wrap his lips around John’s cock. Encouraged by Silver’s continuous moaning, James eased another finger inside and moved them upwards in a circular motion, swiftly locating John’s prostate and brushing that sensitive spot.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Silver shouted, throwing his head back and lifting his hips off the bed. 

Every swirl of Flint’s tongue, along with the purposeful touches of his fingers deep within John, were bringing Silver higher and higher. He was somewhat embarrassed by how quickly he had been brought to the edge, but he could not and did not want to suppress his orgasm any further. His long moan was interrupted by a loud curse which he cried out, gripping the headboard with his right hand. In the last moment, Flint released John’s cock from his mouth, leaned back and finished him off with his thumb, brushing lightly against the underside, and his fingers rubbing him from the inside. Silver came all over his stomach with a shout, momentarily lifting his shoulder blades from the bed and falling back, feeling light spasms all over his body. He was twitching around Flint’s fingers that only stayed in his body unmoving, keeping him stretched.

Flint straightened his back to observe his handiwork. The view of panting John pleased him well. He growled softly and smirked, reaching out to dip the fingers of his free hand into a pool of cum on John’s stomach. He then brought those fingers to John’s nipple, gently rubbing it back and forth, and quickly bent down to lick the sensitive area.

John moaned, already feeling rapid pulse of new arousal in his spent cock. He stretched his arms towards Flint and sighed with delight when the captain leaned over him and gave him a searing kiss that tasted like John. 

“Can you _please_ just fuck me already?” – John huffed out huskily against Flint’s lips, unable to stop smiling – “I swear to God, _I need you to_.”

“Certainly.” James mirrored Silver’s wide smile, removing his fingers out of him. He sat back on his knees, spreading John’s legs wide over his thighs, and put more oil on his palm, coating his cock and John’s entrance with it.

John propped himself up on his elbows, looking down, captivated by their bodies. Flint held his cock firmly in his fist, lining himself up. He leaned down slightly, putting his hand on the back of John’s neck, bringing him closer for a kiss, at the same time carefully breaching him.

Silver moaned desperately, sliding his tongue against Flint’s, overwhelmed by sensations, feeling like he was falling apart, as James was entering him. The fact that it was really finally happening did not escape John at this moment, his heart beating even faster; he cupped James’ face with his shaky hand. He interrupted the kiss to quickly look at Flint, memorizing him at this moment, his lustful expression, his broad figure looming over him. John looked down where their bodies connected, biting his lower lip and growling. The sight was obscene, but he could not get enough of it. John slightly moved his hips down, getting used to this terribly arousing feeling of being filled.

Flint kissed him again, still sliding carefully into him, allowing John to get used to his girth. “Alright?” He asked quietly, searching Silver’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“Yes, _please, don’t stop_.” John breathed out, closing his eyes and pulling on James’ lip with his teeth.

Flint complied, thrusting shallowly a couple of times, before leaning back and moving John a bit higher on his own thighs. He gripped John’s arse tightly, hurriedly licked his lips and thrusted again, deeper this time. Silver moaned, falling onto his back and planting his feet on the bed. He raised himself slightly on every push of Flint’s cock.

James quickly found a pace that made them both moan in pleasure. His hands never left John’s body, stroking his chest and nipples, smearing his cum on his stomach, but not touching John’s hard cock. Silver avoided that as well, grasping Flint’s biceps instead, savoring the feeling of being fucked with such reverence.

“You look so fucking good.” James said in a raspy voice, hungrily taking in the view of Silver spread for him.

“Not as good as you.” John moaned, tensing his muscles to spur Flint on.

James moved quicker, holding John firmly and sharply snapping his hips against him, hitting the spot on every stroke. Their breathing became more ragged, moaning louder. John could feel the tension in his balls, he looked down again, entranced by their entwined bodies chasing mutual release. “ _James_.” He whispered as if in prayer.

When Silver met Flint’s wild gaze, he moaned and spasmed around him, coming without touching his cock. The captain quickly leaned down to capture his trembling lips in a hard kiss, still thrusting into John. Silver crossed his ankles behind Flint, thus prolonging his orgasm even more. He buried his fingers in James’ hair, moaning against his mouth, and in a minute felt Flint’s cock spurting his warm load deep inside him.

John wrapped himself around Flint, still trying to catch his breath, while kissing his chest. James could not stop touching him as well. He closed his eyes, placing his head on John’s chest, remaining inside him. He listened to a steady beating of John’s heart and for the first time in a very long time felt completely at peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are! Home run! 
> 
> I'd be happy to know whether you liked it or not, so feel free to comment.
> 
> I'm also striving to improve my smut writing, so if you got some suggestions and/or recommendations don't hesitate to hit me up.


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